The Hearts of the Palominos
by Ostrich on a Rampage
Summary: Four years after Jack and Crutchie left New York, Jack, Crutchie, Jessie, and JT struggle to find love, all while avoiding raging fires, murder attempts, and abduction. Santa Fe has never been crazier. "Just because everyone deserves a happy ending, doesn't mean everyone gets one." Sequel to Riding Palominos
1. Chapter 1

**I have returned! And we finally have the sequel to Riding Palominos! So, for this story, you're really going to want to have read Riding Palominos; it depends a lot on character relationships that were established in the first one. Also, if you thought Riding Palominos was unbearably long, I've got some bad news for you. This will most likely be longer. It has roughly the same amount of plot points, but in this story, you get Jack, Crutchie, Jessie, and JT's POVs, rather than just limiting it to Jack and Crutchie.**

 **So, a little about the story as a heads up, I suppose. It takes place four years after Riding Palominos. Jack is 21. Crutchie is 20. Jessie is 22. JT is 19. Other characters ages don't matter as much. This is a romance (or an attempt at one, because I really am not the best at writing mushy scenes and whatnot) but it will be a fun romance. Arson, abduction, gun fights, all the good stuff. Also, this story will feature your favorite Manhattan (and Brooklyn!) newsies, in later chapters. What's a Newsies fic without the rest of the newsboys?**

 **That's probably about all you need to know, so go ahead, start reading, my ostriches.**

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November 4, 1903

Crutchie sat astride his chestnut stallion that Claude had purchased for him the prior year for his birthday. As he surveyed the green, wide valley before him, he could not keep the pride and joy that swelled in his chest down. Crutchie had never been happier than he was in this moment, with a cool breeze ruffling the strands of golden-brown hair that protruded from the Stetson hat that had been his since he first came out to Santa Fe, four long years ago. The sun shone gently down on him as he noticed a rider across the fields, making their way in his direction. Crutchie's horse shifted as the rider neared and Crutchie calmingly placed his hand on the horse's neck. "Shh, it's okay, Dustin."

"Don't you know what time it is?" the rider accused, as she drew her painted horse to a stop. The rider had long strawberry-blonde hair that had been pulled into a loose braid slung over her shoulder. She had a round face with piercing green eyes that caught every movement, every micro-expression and had it all tagged and catalogued before Crutchie could even open his mouth. And currently, those green eyes were glaring at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Can't a guy get some time to himself?" Crutchie asked, grinning at Jessie. Ever since the kidnapping—and eloping, though no one else knew the full extent of what had happened—Jessie and Crutchie had grown to be best friends, trusting each other with just about everything. As Crutchie used to explain, "You learn a lot about someone when you're trying to escape a possibly homicidal kidnapper together."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Not today. You should know that. Anyway, Syd, Clark, and company just showed up and ma was wondering where you were."

"And what did you tell her?"

"Well, I didn't think she would appreciate the term 'running off to be free,' so I said you were probably out thinking."

"I'm not running off to be free."

"And you're definitely not thinking, but I thought it was the lesser of the lies."

Crutchie grinned. "You're an idiot."

"As are you. Come on, ma can't hold the crowd off forever. And you know how JT gets around Tres Leches."

"Don't I know it. Race you?" Crutchie challenged, shifting in the saddle to prepare himself.

Jessie's response was to simply urge her mare, Paint, into a gallop. "Catch up, crip!" she shouted. Crutchie rolled his eyes, before spurring Dustin into a ground-eating gallop, easily catching up to the older girl. She glanced back at him, grinning wildly as her horse sped up, clouds of dust pounded up under Paint's flashing hooves.

It wasn't long until the pair reached the ranch house and Crutchie reigned Dustin in, patting the stallion's neck. "Good job," he murmured to the horse as it nickered softly.

"Good job?" Jessie mocked. "I beat you."

"Maybe I let you win," Crutchie suggested, grabbing his crutch from its designated spot. Once he had realized that riding horses was not nearly as difficult as he had initially thought, Crutchie had quickly discovered that there was no good place to keep a crutch. He had tried tucking it under an arm, but dropped it more often than not. Crutchie had also tried straddling it across his knees, but it only jolted up and down with the movement of the horse and left twin bruises on his legs. It had been Clark that had figured out what to do about the troublesome rod of wood. Clark had been watching Crutchie ride and drop the crutch mid-race with Jack. He had approached Crutchie with a new saddle the next week, this one equipped with two extra loops of leather behind the cantle that could hold the crutch horizontally in place on the back of the saddle while he rode. It did require Crutchie to be more aware of the area around him and he had bumped the edge of the crutch into countless trees and people, but it was the best solution thus far.

Crutchie swiftly dismounted, using the crutch to help balance himself. He had come a long way since his first time dismounting, which had left him with a broken wrist. Though, honestly, that hadn't been a dismount; that had been a fall. And the first time he really tried to get off the horse and had managed to reinjure his re-broken wrist even further. Now, getting on and off Dustin was just as simple as hopping in and out of bed.

He grabbed the reins, gently tugging Dustin into the stable. With practiced movements, Crutchie brushed the chestnut stallion down, leaving some extra oats in his feed. He glanced up at Jessie, who was watching him brush the horse down. "What?" Crutchie asked. "Don't have a comeback?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need a comeback. Come on, idiot."

Crutchie followed Jessie out of the stable, removing the familiar Stetson to run a hand through his sweaty blonde hair. Crutchie had allowed it to grow out and it now extended just past the nape of his neck. He brushed some of the sweat from his brow, wiping his hand on his shirt, before returning the cowboy hat to its rightful place. Crutchie had barely made it inside the house when he was assaulted by a blur of red plaid that propelled itself into his knees, nearly knocking Crutchie off of his balance. "Uncle Crutchie!" the blur shouted, hugging his knees tightly.

"Hey, there, squirt. What're you doin' here?" Crutchie asked, reaching down to ruffle the dark brown hair of the small child clutching his legs. Wesley Holloway was the eldest child of Clark and Mae-Anne and would be turning four in the upcoming August. He was a short, pudgy sort of thing, with wide gray eyes and a smile that could not be contained.

"Cake!" Wesley exclaimed looking up at Crutchie, before re-burying his face in Crutchie's legs.

"Ah, and that is where the little troublemaker got to," Clark announced, before patting Crutchie on the shoulder. Clark had decided to grow a beard, much to the dismay of his younger brothers, the only distinction from how he had looked four years previous. The brown eyes and brown hair, firm jaw and wide shoulders remained intact; the beard was the sole new addition. Now, Clark, when hugging a family member, would rub the scruffy beard against the victim's cheek until they squirmed and screamed. "And, look, Wesley is here, too."

"Oh, shut up, Clark," Crutchie muttered, carefully extricating his legs from Wesley's hold. "Where's your little brother?" he asked the three-year-old.

"Dunno," Wesley responded, shrugging his shoulders in a comically exaggerated manner. He grabbed at Crutchie's left hand. "I want to show you something."

"Okay, just one moment," Crutchie promised. "Where's Jed?"

Clark grinned, before imitating his son. "Dunno."

At that moment, Mae-Anne entered the room, the child in question on her hip. Jedson Holloway was only a year old and had his mother's blonde hair and big brown eyes that took everything in solemnly. "Found 'im!" Wesley shouted, pointing a grubby finger in Jed's direction.

"Good job, Wesley," Crutchie congratulated as Mae-Anne came over and hugged him. "Hi, Mae-Anne. How's it going?" Mae-Anne had more wrinkles around her eyes, which Crutchie attributed to the responsibility of raising a family. Her blonde hair had been pulled into a hasty ponytail after Jed had immediately grabbed for the strands within reach. Her gray eyes, though perhaps more tired, shone with laughter and vitality.

"Oh, you know, just as well as it can be going when one has three babies to take care of."

"I take offense to that!" Clark exclaimed as Crutchie laughed.

Crutchie was going to add a comment, but Wesley started tugging even harder at his hand. "Come on, Uncle Crutchie. I gotta show you."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he promised, before glancing apologetically at Clark and Mae-Anne. "I'll talk to you later?" he proposed.

"Go," Mae-Anne said, kindly shooing him after her son. "Wesley has been wanting to see you all week."

"What do you want to show me?" Crutchie asked as Wesley led him through the house to the front room.

"It's a surprise," Wesley explained, tugging Crutchie along. "I can't _tell_ you."

"Clearly," Crutchie agreed.

Wesley continued to pull Crutchie until they finally reached the front room. He darted away from Crutchie to the corner of the room, out of Crutchie's eyesight. "I see Wesley finally found you," a voice that Crutchie had known for as long as he could remember remarked. Crutchie turned, smiling as Jack hugged him. The older boy was now twenty-one and had shot up a couple inches, further securing the height difference between the pair. Crutchie had grown taller, he had. But Jack's five inches outshone Crutchie's three. Jack had put on more muscle, with the constant strains of ranch work, and enjoyed comparing his biceps with JT and Crutchie, who Crutchie was proud to admit, had also filled out a bit more. "I swear, Clark and Mae-Anne got here and Wesley came up to me and I was thinking, 'Finally! Maybe I'll actually be the favorite uncle,' but, no. He just wanted to ask me where _you_ were." Jack punctuated his sentence by poking Crutchie in his chest.

"Well, Wesley does have a good taste in people," Crutchie pointed out.

"That's not true," Jack argued, his dark brown eyes narrowing.

Crutchie shrugged. "If the shoe fits…"

Jack rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Syd?" he asked the older man lounging on the couch across the room, one arm around his new wife, a young woman by the name of Deborah.

"I think Wesley is three. And you both are idiots," Syd muttered. The older Holloway brother had decided, in retaliation, Crutchie suspected, to grow a goatee. He had spent an entire meal, one night when the entire family had gathered together, explaining the intricacy of shaving a goatee and why he had the more impressive facial hair because "any idiot could grow a beard." Clark had then _accidentally_ , of course, spilled his water in Syd's lap and remarked that any idiot could wet his pants.

"What stunning conclusions you've arrived at. How do you do that?" Deborah asked sarcastically. When Syd had first brought Deborah home to meet the family, the Holloway brothers had immediately declared her way outside Syd's league. She had soft blonde hair that bounced into curls naturally and a petite face that was as fair as china. Deborah had soft blue eyes that lit up whenever Syd was nearby and a mouth that was always poised to, either, smile and flirt with Syd or tease him mercilessly.

"Come on, Debby. You're supposed to mock my family, not _me_."

"I'm pretty sure that was not what I agreed to when I married you last month."

"It was in the fine print," Syd explained.

Debby rolled her eyes, before cuddling closer to Syd. They had started dating a couple months after Crutchie and Jessie had returned from their near-kidnapping and had been practically inseparable since. Syd had worked nearly three years to prove to Debby's father, a stern man with a thick gray moustache that always seemed to curl up when Syd entered the room, that he could take care of the man's only daughter. Now, Syd and Debby were living in the same ranch house as Clark and Mae-Anne and their children. Syd and Clark worked the small ranch, meaning that only Jack, Jessie, and Crutchie worked Claude's ranch.

JT had been offered a place on the ranch, but had turned it down in favor of— "Hey, Crutch! Where've you been?" Crutchie's thoughts were interrupted when he was grabbed into a crushing hug by the devil himself. JT had grown quite a bit in the past four years, surpassing Jack by half an inch, to which JT was immensely pleased. He now towered over Crutchie, who had never really had that growth spurt he had hoped for as a child. His bright red hair hung foppishly over his forehead, a style that Crutchie knew took JT much too long in the bathroom to concoct.

Crutchie smiled. "Just out on the ranch."

"I swear, we get you one horse and you never want to leave it alone," JT muttered, shaking his head, but grinning.

"But, what about you?" Crutchie asked. "Take down any hardened criminals today?"

JT frowned, collapsing into an arm chair and swinging his muddy boots onto the nearby coffee table. After Sheriff Palmer had come to the Holloway homestead to help in the search for Jessie and Crutchie, JT had been enraptured with the older man and his position in society. As soon as he had finished his schooling, JT had immediately approached the sheriff to see if any deputies were needed. It took weeks of asking and pleading and convincing, but JT had now been officially one of Sheriff Palmer's three deputies for the past two years. "Just a bunch of drunkards," he muttered. "Nothing exciting."

"John-Thomas! Get your feet off of my coffee table!"

The shout had JT instantly pulling his feet off of the furniture, his ears burning red. Sheepishly, JT turned to his mother, chagrined. "Sorry, ma. I—I forgot."

Sue rolled her eyes, her hands fisted into the light blue apron that was tied around her waist. Crutchie would never say it in front of her—or behind her back, even—but he couldn't shake the thought that Sue had shrunk a bit in the past couple years. Either that, or he had truly grown more than he had thought. Crutchie smirked at that: it was bad enough to shrink, but then to start graying? In the past four years, Sue's hair had begun to be streaked with silver, which she constantly attributed to the whole lot of the Holloway children, including Jack and Crutchie. "Really," she had complained a couple weeks earlier, "my hair wouldn't look like this if my children would stop being kidnapped," she accused, thrusting a fork in Crutchie and Jessie's direction, "getting married and having children," she added, the fork turning to jab at Clark and Syd, "and getting sick," she concluded, turning to Jack and JT who had just been getting over a quick bout with the flu. She hadn't truly been mad until JT added, "Come on, ma, you're not old; you're antique!"

"Look, just like new," JT added to appease his mother as he brushed the specks of dirt off of the coffee table.

"It's time for dinner," she muttered, shaking her head as she left the room, probably to gather the rest of her ever-growing family.

"Come on, Wesley," Crutchie called out. "We're going to start eating soon."

"I know," Wesley muttered petulantly. "I heard grandma. Look!" he said, shoving a box in Crutchie's direction. "We got you a present." His grin widened. "Ma even let _me_ pick it out."

Crutchie raised his eyebrows in Wesley's direction. "She did? Well, I bet it's gonna be something real good in that case."

Wesley nodded, grabbing at Crutchie's hand and allowing the older man to guide him to the dining room where the rest of the family was gathered. "But you can't open it 'til after dinner," Wesley instructed seriously. "That's what ma said."

"Your mother's right," Crutchie agreed, helping Wesley sit down at the table between Clark and Mae-Anne.

"There you are, Wesley," Mae-Anne said, helping situate the squirming three year old. "Did you bother Uncle Crutchie?"

Wesley shook his head exaggeratingly. "No, ma, I am a delight."

Crutchie grinned as he took his place at the dinner table across from Clark. Ever since Jack had sarcastically remarked that an excessively hyper Wesley was a "delight," Wesley had taken to using the word constantly, proudly attributing the term to himself. "He was fine, Mae-Anne," Crutchie explained, placing his crutch under the bench for the meal. Because of his gimp leg, Crutchie always got the edge of the bench, meaning that he didn't ever have to squish between two people, knock elbows with any of the Holloways, during any of the large family dinners.

Jack wedged himself between Crutchie and Jessie, who had just barely taken the seat next to Crutchie. "Coming through," Jack muttered. "'Scuse me, 'scuse me. Trying to sit here."

"Jack," Jessie complained as she scooted over to allow Jack her spot at the table. "Why do you have to take my seat? There are plenty of other places at the table."

"Hey, you know that on Crutchie's birthday, I get to sit by the birthday boy. That's just the rule," Jack explained, elbowing the redhead in her ribs, before turning to Crutchie. "How's the day been? I see you finally managed to extricate yourself out of Wesley's grip."

"You're just jealous that Wesley likes me better. It's been fine. I just went out riding earlier, after finishing up the North-eastern fence."

Jack clucked his tongue, shaking his head. "It's a pity someone managed to steal some of the sheep. We should've had Callie out there." Callie was one of the many ranch dogs that hung around the property, tongues lolling as they panted in the shade of the buildings and sparse trees. Two days earlier, it had been discovered that a group of sheep had been stolen, ten in total. It wasn't a crushing number, but the loss would definitely be reflected in the numbers that Claude always compiled at the end of the year to track the success and growth of the ranch.

"Yeah, but it's weird because the fence—" Crutchie began, but was cut off when Claude tapped a butter knife against his glass, drawing the attention of the family. Sue looked as if she hadn't aged a day, compared to Claude. The older man's hair had nearly finished graying in the past four years. His face was weather-beaten and wrinkles were deepening each week, but the intelligence that shown from his eyes belied any accusation of elderliness. Crutchie didn't think he knew anyone happier than Claude Holloway, who may not be constantly smiling, but merely exuded good thoughts and feelings, raising the spirits of all around him. Crutchie glanced down at his plate, hoping that, one day, he could be just as happy, just as content as Claude was in his position of life.

"Okay, quiet down, now," Claude said, scanning the occupants of the table. He smiled softly at the sight of his posterity and the two boys that had been taken in four years earlier. The past four years had been good to the Holloway family and Claude wouldn't trade those memories for the world. "The food will be getting cold if we don't start eating soon. Okay, so… JT? Do you mind saying grace?" Claude asked.

"No, me!" Wesley shouted, his hand shooting up in the air. "Me, grandpa, me!"

The majority of the Holloway family giggled at the child's antics and JT gestured to the boy. "He feels rather strongly about it, pa," he pointed out. "Maybe Wesley should say the prayer."

"Okay, Wesley, you can say grace," Claude said judiciously.

Wesley closed one eye, glanced around the table, and then closed the other eye. "Once upon a time," he began and JT nearly lost it, snorting loudly into his closed fist. At the outburst, Wesley opened his eyes and glared at the older redhead. "Shh," he hissed. "I'm trying to pray." JT quickly apologized to the three year old and Wesley started over again, "Once upon a time… uh, thank you for grandma and grandpa… and thank you for Uncle Crutchie and that he is not dead and has a birthday today. Please bless that I have a birthday soon and maybe Jed, too, but he is still little and doesn't care as much. Thank you for all the food and… Uh, the end."

With wide grins, the Holloway family responded to Wesley's prayer with a chorus of joyous "the ends." Wesley smiled, shyly ducking into his mother's shoulder, while she patted his dark brown hair and congratulated him on praying.

"So, Crutchie," Clark began as he tried to scoop green beans onto Wesley's plate while the three year old successfully blocked the spoon with his hand. He eventually gave up and added green beans to his and his wife's plates. Mae-Anne glared at him and he rolled his eyes before adding some green beans to Wesley's plate. Wesley protested the insubordination, but calmed down when Mae-Anne promised him cake if he ate the vegetables. "You got any plans now that you're the big two-oh?"

"Yeah," Syd agreed. "Twenty's a milestone. Now there's only one teenager left in the house."

"Adult," JT corrected grumpily. "And only for four more months."

With a shrug, Crutchie accepted the dish of roast beef that Jack passed to him. "I don't know. Keep working on the ranch. Is there something specific I should be planning to do?"

Clark sipped at his cup of milk before grinning across the table. "Well, I don't mean to rush you or anything, but Mae-Anne was married when she was twenty."

Crutchie choked on his glass of milk, coughing loudly into his elbow. Jack pounded him rather unhelpfully on his back and Crutchie finally shoved Jack's arm out of the way. He turned, red-faced, back to Clark. "W-what? Married?"

"I'm just stating the facts," Clark remarked, smug as he observed the tips of Crutchie's ears remained red, even though his face had regained its normal color.

"But what about Jack or Jessie? Both of them are older than twenty and I don't see you pressuring either of them," Crutchie quickly pointed out.

Clark rolled his eyes. "Jack's more in love with the land than anything else and Jessie hasn't trusted a guy within a hundred feet of her after the last one turned out to be a homicidal maniac."

"That ain't true!" Jack protested.

At the same time, Jessie quickly reminded, "And Gabriel didn't actually kill anyone."

"But you," Clark continued, "you have prospects. You're the only normal one left."

"Hey!" JT interrupted. "I'm normal."

"You don't even work on the ranch anymore," Clark quickly countered. "So, Crutch, you got a girl that we should know about? You start dating some pretty lady?"

Crutchie shook his head, rolling his eyes. "No, but if I find one, you'll be the first to know, Clark."

Clark nodded. "Good, because you're getting to the age that you might start wanting to settle down and I'm here to make sure you pick the right person." If Clark noticed the way Crutchie's eyes widened or his ears brightened, he made no remark on it.

"I—I…" Crutchie started, before glancing down at his plate. He shook his head once more, before uncomfortably stuttering, "T-thanks, Clark." Crutchie pulled his hands under the table, trying to control the brief tremors that wracked the appendages.

Jack noticed how Crutchie's shoulders had been drawn together in a tense line and quickly changed the subject. He didn't know what exactly Clark had said had bothered Crutchie so much, but he figured his younger friend would appreciate a new topic of conversation. "So, are we ready for presents?" he asked, grabbing a box he had stuffed under the bench and passing it to Crutchie. "I got you something."

Crutchie smiled softly at Jack, a silent "thank you" that Jack had learned to interpret long ago. "You didn't hafta, Jack," Crutchie said, his smile widening when Jack nudged him softly.

"Of course, I did, kid," Jack said, ignoring how Crutchie rolled his eyes at the moniker. "This ain't no Stetson, but hopefully you'll still like it." Carefully, Crutchie opened the box, revealing a new leather saddle bag. "I noticed Claude's old one that you use was starting to tear through at the bottom and I thought you could use a new one. Do you like it?" Jack asked somewhat nervously.

Crutchie pulled the bag from the box, running his hand down the smooth leather. The initials "C.M." were etched into the leather and he brushed his fingers over the dips and edges of the leather. "I love it. Thanks, Jack."

"It was nothing. I just wanted to get ya something you would actually use."

"We have a present, too!" Wesley shouted, scrambling out of his father's lap that he had moved to once he had finished his food. The child grabbed the box he had shown Crutchie earlier and made his way around the table to hand it to the older man. "Happy birthday!" he exclaimed happily, handing the gift over.

Crutchie pulled the box's flaps open, revealing a carefully folded red plaid shirt. He pulled the shirt out of the box, holding it to his chest and grinning. "Thank you," he said, ruffling Wesley's hair and nodding to Mae-Anne and Clark across the table.

"I picked it out," Wesley reminded Crutchie, pushing himself into Crutchie's lap and nearly elbowing Jack's glass of milk over in the process. Luckily, Jack had fast enough reflexes to right the glass before it completely toppled. "Do you like it? Does it fit? And look!" Wesley added, stretching his shirt out to hold it near Crutchie's new shirt. "We match!"

"I love it," Crutchie reassured the three year old. "And I'm sure the shirt will fit just fine. Thanks, Wesley, it looks great. We'll have to wear them the same night sometime." Crutchie glanced around the table, before adding, "And thanks to all of you. It's been a fantastic birthday, really."

"Well, that's not all," Claude said, standing up from the table and leaving the room.

"What do you mean?" Crutchie asked, glancing at Jack, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

"See, you're twenty now," Claude explained as he reentered the room with one his hands held behind his back. "And that means that it's about time for you to have one of your own." Once he reached Crutchie, Claude pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a gleaming Colt pistol.

Crutchie's jaw dropped, the sight of the pistol rendering him speechless. "Y-you wouldn't've. You couldn't've." He finally looked back up at Claude, who was still smiling, still holding out the pistol. "Claude, I can't—"

"Come on, Crutchie," Sue said, "It's from all of us."

"It's about time you stopped using my old ones; you're a better shot than me," Claude pointed out. "Now you have a pistol of your own."

"Thanks," Crutchie breathed, staring in awe at the firearm that Claude lightly deposited in his hands. It was new, Crutchie could tell. The silver gleamed in the light, bright and beautiful. Crutchie wanted nothing more than to head out and go shooting with it. "B-but," he added, the thought suddenly striking him, "Jack never got anything like this when he turned twenty, or even twenty-one."

"Jack couldn't hit the sky if he even tried," Jessie muttered dryly. "You at least can shoot the damn thing."

Elbowing her lightly in the side, Jack was quick to protest, "I've been practicing. I'm loads better now. Just yesterday—"

"That is completely beside the point, Jack."

"What is the point?"

Jessie rolled her eyes. "That Crutchie deserves the gun."

"Well, yeah, he does. Why are we arguing then?" Jack asked.

"You're arguing because Jessie reminded you that you're an awful shot," Clark spoke up helpfully, a mischievous grin splitting the beard.

"Oh. But, I've been practicing. I'm loads better—"

Jessie cut Jack off. " _Anyway_ , happy birthday, Crutch. Enjoy the pistol."

Crutchie smiled. "Okay, thank you. All of you. I couldn't ask for anything better." And it was true. He had a family. A _family_. As Sue set down a pan with the Tres Leches cake in front of Crutchie, motioning for him to blow out the candles, Crutchie recalled all the previous birthday wishes before he and Jack had made their way out West when he had wished for a family of his own. And now he had one. Sure, Claude and Sue weren't legally his parents or anything like that, but they had treated him and Jack like their own sons and Crutchie was never left wanting.

"Make a wish," Jack reminded as Crutchie stared at the flickering candles.

A wish. Crutchie couldn't think of anything he wanted beyond what he already had. He had a place to live, a ranch to work on, plenty of food, and a group of people who loved him for who he was. Crutchie watched the flames as they danced with a life of their own, unaware of their imminent extinguishment. He really didn't have anything to say beyond a vague hope for improvement. _I wish… I wish that this year will be… different. Better. Somehow, exciting._ Crutchie's lips quirked at the lame wish, quirked at the fact that his life was so perfect that he didn't have anything exact to request. He blew at the flickering candles.

Darkness.

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 **Aren't they all so happy? Wouldn't it be a shame if all that happiness disappeared...**

 **Well, what do you guys think about the first chapter? Excited? Not? I know, I know. Character introductions aren't the most exciting thing, but the plot will pick up. And when it does, you'll just want to hold on. Whatever you're thinking, I'd love to hear it. And constructive criticism is always welcome. So, please review!**

 **I'm excited for this story. Updates will be on Fridays, so keep an eye out for the next chapter next week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, everyone! And here we have the next update of this fic! Oh, and you know how I said it would probably be longer. I just confirmed that this week. One of the big plot points that was supposed to happen in chapter five was bumped back to chapter seven because Crutchie literally will not shut up. And if that's a sign of how the rest of the fic will go... There will be plenty of chapters.**

 **Anyway, that's about all I've got to say! Read on, my ostriches!**

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Crutchie smiled as he pulled on the new plaid shirt that Clark and Mae-Anne's family had given him. Wesley had been adamant that he try the shirt on the night before and Crutchie had eventually given in to the child's demands, but only long enough for Wesley to tug Mae-Anne into the room, babbling, "See, I told you it fits. I told you, ma. I told you." As soon as Crutchie had moved to remove the article of clothing, Wesley had asked, clearly upset, if Crutchie didn't like it. To which Crutchie had explained that he loved it, but wanted to wear it the next day and didn't want to risk getting the new shirt dirty. He hadn't ever had much experience with children under the age of eight—Romeo turning nine shortly after joining the Manhattan newsies—but he found that he really enjoyed Wesley's company, for the most part. There had been the unfortunate scrambled eggs incident, but he was willing to overlook that since the kid was so darn cute.

As Crutchie left the room and entered the dining room, Jack glanced up from a mug of coffee he was nursing. "Ah, I see you kept that promise you made Wesley."

Crutchie scoffed, grabbing a biscuit and sitting down next to Jack. "I always keep my promises. And where can I get some of that delicious coffee?" Jessie had taken to making coffee in the morning out of spite to Syd's offhand comment that Jessie could burn water if Sue wasn't around to help her cook. It had quickly been discovered that Jessie's coffee far surpassed her mother's rendition of the caffeinated drink and was such a hit at the breakfast table that the Holloways had run out of a regular portion of coffee beans that was meant to last a month in two weeks. Now Jessie rationed the coffee and only made one pot each morning. Supposedly, there was a secret ingredient involved to make the coffee so fantastic, but if there was, Jessie refused to divulge the precious secret to anyone.

Jack snorted. "Bad news for you. JT just took the rest of it to the sheriff's office. He's trying to win over Palmer."

"No," Crutchie moaned, slumping onto the table. "How could he?"

"Yes, how could he dare to have the ambition to move up in his job? What an impudent young man," Jack muttered sarcastically.

Crutchie rolled his eyes at Jack's sarcasm, before sitting up and reaching for Jack's mug. "Come on, Jack, give me a sip. Just a little bit. Please?"

Jack deftly scooted the mug out of Crutchie's reach. "No, this is my coffee. Maybe you should have gotten up earlier."

"Jack, yesterday was my birthday so I think you should—"

"Yes, Crutchie, _yesterday_ was your birthday. So, I don't hafta do squat anymore," Jack explained, pointedly sipping at the coffee.

"Ugh," Crutchie groaned loudly, letting his head drop once more onto his folded arms.

"What's up with the Crutch?" a familiar voice asked and Crutchie figured he should at least show the courtesy of making eye contact.

With a second groan, Crutchie lifted his head. "There's no more coffee," he explained, frowning as Jessie, smiling sarcastically, sipped from her mug. "And, let me guess, you won't share with me either."

"Good guess," Jessie replied, sitting down and turning to face Jack. "Wow, this coffee is some of my best."

Jack grinned. "Oh, yes. Top notch. If it were possible, I'd just live off of this mug of coffee for the rest of my life."

"Delicious."

"Spectacular."

"Scrumptious."

"Glorious."

"Okay!" Crutchie interrupted, ignoring the sarcastic smiles both Jessie and Jack were shooting him. "Thank you both. I'm just going to have orange juice."

Jessie pressed her fist to her mouth to try to stem the laughter that began to bubble up. "Uh, Crutchie… We ran out yesterday morning. There's no orange juice left."

Crutchie stared at her for a moment, before muttering. "Well, isn't that just the cherry to top it all." He slumped forward once more. "Today sucks," he observed, his voice muffled by his arms and the table, but still clear enough for Jack and Jessie to hear. "And you're both jerks," he added, jabbing his finger in both of his friends' direction. A sharp knocking at the door preempted any remark that Jack or Jessie had prepared to save their besmirched honor. "I am not getting that," Crutchie mumbled. "That is a job for someone with coffee."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, rolling his eyes. "We wouldn't want you to overwork yourself." When Jessie started to stand up, Jack motioned for her to sit down. "I'll get it," he told her, leaving the table.

The second that Jack's footsteps had faded into the front room, Crutchie perked up. The sudden motion startled Jessie, whose coffee sloshed in her mug when her hand jerked. He grinned mischievously at her, before grabbing at the mug Jack had foolishly left behind. "You're really going to—"

"Shush, Jessie," Crutchie said, holding up a finger to quiet her and taking a sip from the mug. "Oh, that really is good. This is your best work yet," Crutchie complimented, before returning to the stolen coffee.

Jessie smiled into her mug, carefully drinking her coffee and enjoying the way the heated liquid traveled down her throat, warming her whole body. "Thank you, but I don't think I could bear to have Jack kill you over a cup of coffee."

"What you don't understand is that maybe this coffee is worth dying for," Crutchie murmured, not allowing the edge of the mug to move beyond an inch from his lips. "I feel better already."

"Hey, Crutch," Jack started, entering the dining room. Crutchie quickly tried to replace the cup before Jack caught sight of the betrayal, but was too late. "Are you kidding me?" Jack exclaimed, crossing the room in hurried strides. He lifted the cup, offended to discover that only a small mouthful of coffee remained in the mug. "That was mine!"

"Glad you said 'was'," Crutchie cheekily responded. "You and Jessie were right, Jack. It was delicious and spectacular, scrumptious and glorious. Top notch, I'd say."

Jack glared at Crutchie. "The door is for you, traitor."

Crutchie grabbed his crutch from under the bench where he had pushed it. "Okay, I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't think you'd be so upset about the coffee," Crutchie muttered, edging past Jack towards the door, but Jack stopped him.

"Come on, Crutch, I was kidding. It was a joke."

"Good, because I'm really not all that sorry about your coffee," Crutchie finished, ignoring Jack's sputtered attempt at a response.

Jack had welcomed the guest into the house and Crutchie quickly crossed the room to where Glenn Briarwood was seated on the edge of the chair by the door, his Stetson in his hands. When he caught sight of Crutchie, he immediately stood up, reaching to shake hands with the younger man. "Mr. Morris, it's good to see you." Glenn Briarwood was Ms. Trinity Briarwood's older brother and he, like his sister, refused to call the younger man by his preferred name. Upon understanding that Crutchie truly hated the name "Christopher," Glenn and Trinity Briarwood had settled on calling him Mr. Morris. Glenn was nearly ten years older than his younger sister and was in his mid-forties, but remained unmarried. The two unmarried siblings lived together, Glenn providing the familial male presence and stewardship that was still expected for Trinity, even though her age extended into the thirties. "Unfortunately, last night Trinity came down with the flu and we were wondering if you would mind going taking her place for today? I understand that this is short notice, but we would really appreciate your help."

"Of course, Glenn," Crutchie agreed. "Let me just tell Jack and Jessie that I won't be out with them and I'll head to the schoolhouse immediately."

"Thank you, Mr. Morris," Glenn replied, sighing in relief. His steely blue eyes rarely showed emotion, especially around Crutchie—whom he still didn't like all that much—but to Crutchie it looked like his eyes actually softened. "It's nice to know that there is someone else that we can count on if Trinity gets sick like this, without leaving all those children stranded."

"You're very welcome. Tell Trinity that I hope she feels better soon," Crutchie added as Glenn left the house, replacing his Stetson onto his balding head. After shutting the door behind the older man, Crutchie headed back into the kitchen and quickly snagged a second biscuit. "I've got to go to the schoolhouse today," he told Jack and Jessie, who had looked up at his entrance. "Trinity got sick, so I'm going to step in for her today. I know it's short notice; I'm sorry. Anyway, I've got to get going or I'll be late."

"Does he wait until the very last second to tell you you're needed?" Jessie asked rhetorically, before waving Crutchie away with her hand. "Go on, then. Get going. Impressionable students to change and all that."

"Thanks, guys. Please tell Claude why I'm skipping out. I'll see you later!" Crutchie called out, hurrying out back to saddle Dustin and get to the schoolhouse. Generally, Crutchie didn't like to take a horse when he could walk there just fine and it would save the trouble of worrying that Dustin was fine, tethered out behind the schoolhouse. When he was running late, however, Crutchie didn't exactly have the luxury of deciding whether to ride or not: it was the only option that would get him there on time.

It only took Crutchie ten minutes to ride the distance from the Holloway homestead to the schoolhouse, especially since he had ridden Dustin a little harder than strictly necessary. "Sorry," Crutchie apologized as he tied Dustin to the branches of a tree, ensuring that the horse would have access to plenty of grass and was within reach of a water trough Crutchie had dragged under the tree a couple months earlier. "I got you a treat, though," Crutchie said, pulling an apple out of his new saddlebag and offering it as some form of appeasement. Dustin nickered softly, before gingerly taking the apple from Crutchie's outstretched palm with his large teeth. Crutchie laughed, patting Dustin's shoulder. "Okay, be good. I'll be back out before you know it."

Crutchie resituated his crutch more comfortably under his armpit, before making his way to the front of the schoolhouse, fishing out the key to the building. "Oh, Crutchie! I didn't think you would be teaching us today!"

Barely resisting a grin, Crutchie tried to look stern. "How many times do I have to tell ya, Grant? It's Mr. Morris when I'm teaching."

The nine year old sheepishly rubbed his head. "Ah, man. I just keep forgetting," he admitted.

Crutchie smiled this time, ruffling the kid's dark brown hair as he stepped past him to unlock the door. "I'm just giving you a hard time." Grant's face lit up, a grin widening across his features, even as Crutchie continued, "Still, you should probably stick to calling me Mr. Morris when I'm the teacher."

"Yeah, of course, _Mr. Morris_ ," Grant replied, emphasizing the name to prove to Crutchie that he'd remember. Or at least try. Crutchie had started to substitute for Ms. Briarwood after he had finished his schooling and Ms. Briarwood had, grudgingly, admitted that he did have a very good grasp on all the subjects. When Crutchie had expressed interest in teaching—which he had discovered after helping Susie, David, and Grant his first year in Santa Fe—Ms. Briarwood had decided that he could cover her on whatever days she was unable to teach. Although, initially, the majority of the students had been disappointed at this change of events, having looked forward to the days their teacher couldn't attend as impromptu vacations, Crutchie had quickly become the more beloved of the teachers. Since the beginning, the three children that Crutchie had worked with only a couple years earlier were especially supportive of him, although the often slipped up and called him Crutchie instead of Mr. Morris. So, while Crutchie believed that Grant would try to remember to call him by his last name, he doubted that it would last very long.

Crutchie finally unlocked the door, pushing it open and allowing the student's behind him to make their way to the benches designated for the different age groups. The schoolhouse only had the one door, which Crutchie usually left open because he felt like the large room often got stuffy. The schoolhouse did have two windows near the front of the room, but they were small and were difficult to open beyond a crack. He paused to attempt to open one of the windows and Grant followed him. "What was Ms. Briarwood teaching you yesterday?" Crutchie asked, grunting as he strained to open the window beyond the couple of inches it had lifted. Eventually, Crutchie gave up and moved to the next one, mentally deciding that he would need to ask Clark if he knew of a way to fix those windows.

Grant shrugged and Crutchie turned, raising an eyebrow at the younger boy. "You weren't paying attention?" he gently accused.

"No, I was," Grant protested. "It was just… some sort of arithmetic. I didn't like it, so I, uh… maybe I wasn't really listening as much as I should have." When Crutchie's eyebrow remained raised, Grant quickly added, "But David knows! He understood what Ms. Briarwood was saying more than me."

"And you know this because you copied his homework?" Crutchie suggested. He had known the two boys for over four years now and he was quite certain that his suggestion was exactly what had taken place. Grant had never been very good at math and Crutchie knew that David was often helping his friend, but Crutchie expected that sometimes the helping turned to cheating.

Grant shook his head. "No, of course not!" When Crutchie continued to watch him, he added, "Well, maybe just a little, but it's not his fault because I distracted him and took his homework. He probably doesn't even know I copied."

"Grant," Crutchie began levelly. "You know that you aren't supposed to copy someone else's homework. How else can I expect you to learn?"

Softly, with defeat coloring his words, Grant asked, "Are you gonna get the switch?"

Crutchie watched him, considering. "No, I don't think I will this time. However, you will be staying in during the recess to do last night's homework on your own, along with some extra problems that I will create for you."

Grant's face fell momentarily, before he squared his shoulders, accepting his punishment. "Okay, that's fair. Thanks, Cr—Mr. Morris. I won't do it ever again."

"I hope not," Crutchie agreed, as he moved to the teacher's desk at the front of the room. He had always been hesitant to use the switch when he taught after his dreadful, pain-filled experiences with that unfairly legalized weapon—as Crutchie categorized it. Instead, Crutchie chose to find other punishments for the children, ones he hoped were more constructive than simply painful. "Why don't you take your seat?" Crutchie suggested, his eyes scanning the room to see which students were present.

It looked like just about everyone was there—only the two Pennington boys absent—and Crutchie started the class with a shrug. "So, I'm sure you all noticed that Ms. Briarwood isn't here today. She ended up getting sick, so I'll be here today and she should be back tomorrow. Now, Grant was telling me that you were working on your arithmetic yesterday, correct?" A couple of the students nodded and Crutchie continued, "If everyone would mind passing their homework forward, I'll work on grading it this morning. While I do that, you can work on the readings in your primer books. We'll go over that before recess and then after you all return, we can work more on arithmetic."

Crutchie collected the sheets of homework, quickly organizing them on level of difficulty. He always started with the younger student's papers first and moved up throughout the class. Mary was having trouble with adding double digits together and Crutchie wanted to sit with her for a while and make sure that she understood how to carry the number before they would be tested. Frank still hadn't completely grasped the concept of multiplication, though he got all the questions that involved multiplying by 10 correctly. Some of the more advanced students were dividing large numbers and Crutchie was proud to note that, besides a number of simple mistakes, the children were getting the problems correct. Or, at the very least, solving them correctly. Good. He'd have to figure out some way to let them know that he was proud of the progress they were making.

"Mr. Morris?" a soft voice pulled Crutchie from his thoughts and he looked up from a student's paper. Little Leslie Parker was standing in front of his desk, her blue eyes wide and nervous, her face tight. She was one of the youngest students, having just started school a couple months ago.

"Yes, Leslie?"

Leslie scuffed her shoe on the floor nervously. "Mr. Morris, I was just wondering if I could go home."

"Go home?" Crutchie asked. "Why's that?"

With a soft shrug, Leslie averted her eyes. "I'm not feeling so great."

"How so? Does your head hurt? Your stomach?" Crutchie asked, standing up and moving to crouch in front of her.

Leslie nodded. "It's mostly my—" she cut herself off by vomiting on the floor, splattering Crutchie's shoes with brown, chunky liquid. The entire class erupted into screams and gags—some fake and some real—causing Leslie's eyes to well with tears. Or maybe that was because she had just thrown up.

"Okay, everyone," Crutchie began, standing up, but keeping a comforting hand on Leslie's back. "Calm down. How about you all—" Leslie vomited again and the class reacted even louder, the students in the front rows leaving their seats with pinched noses to find fresh air in the back of the classroom. "Let's have recess now," Crutchie suggested, waving the students out the door and turning back to Leslie, who was crying even harder now.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I—" One more wave of vomit and Crutchie barely resisted rolling his eyes. What a fantastic day for Ms. Briarwood to choose to be sick.

"It's just fine, Leslie. Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?" Crutchie smiled softly when Leslie nodded.

Crutchie turned to get a wet rag and found Grant standing there with one already. When Crutchie shot him an incredulous look, Grant explained, "Well, I'm supposed to stay in for recess, aren't I?"

"This isn't exactly an arithmetic problem," Crutchie muttered wryly.

"It could be. How many rags does it take to clean up vomit if Leslie threw up three times?"

Crutchie helped Leslie wipe down the front of her dress as well as he could, though he was afraid it would stain. Plus, now she had a huge wet spot down her chest. "That's as good as I can do, Leslie."

"Thank you, Mr. Morris. I'm feeling loads better now," Leslie explained.

With a soft laugh, Crutchie started to clean up the vomit on the floor. "I'm sure you are, but I still think you should go home. Grant, would you go get Harold and see if he'll walk his little sister home?"

"Yeah, I'll be back soon," Grant promised.

After Crutchie had finished mopping up the vomit, he tried to crack the windows open even further to allow a cross breeze, but they were well and truly stuck. He would just have to trust the door to bring in enough fresh air. Grant returned quickly with Harold Parker in tow. "Harold, do you mind taking Leslie home?" Crutchie asked, smiling when Harold nodded. "I don't think I'm going to pass out any homework for the night, so you don't even have to worry about that. Just try not to catch whatever Leslie has, okay?"

"Sure, Mr. Morris. I'll see you later," Harold said, motioning for Leslie to follow him. When she reached for his hand, he pulled it out of reach. "I'm not holding your hand, sickie."

Crutchie shook his hand, before turning and noticing that Grant was still standing there. "So, what now?" Grant asked.

"It still sorta stinks, doesn't it."

Grant nodded. "Yeah, it does."

Crutchie sighed. "Do you think the other kids will even want to come back in?"

"No, probably not."

"Well, that settles it," Crutchie said, leaving the building. He motioned for the children to gather around him and it only took him shouting a couple times to get the entire schoolhouse gathered around him. "Okay, so I've got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that it smells so bad in there, I don't think we're going to be able to continue the school day." The crowd of students tittered excitedly. "You'll have to go home."

"Wait, but, if that's the bad news, what's the good news?" David asked. Crutchie noticed he was standing next to Susie and barely resisted smirking at the two nine year olds. David remained hopelessly in love with Susie, but the blonde girl seemed oblivious at all of David's attempts to impress her. Crutchie found it hilarious.

"The good news is that I thought of some homework for you all." Crutchie waited for the groans to die down to expound, "I want you all to go home and avoid getting sick. I would like to avoid as much vomiting as possible."

The students erupted into cheers as they realized that school was out and, since there was no homework, they would have the rest of the afternoon to themselves. "Thanks, Mr. Morris!" some of the student's exclaimed, before rushing back inside to grab bags, books, and hats.

Crutchie watched the drove of students leaving, but was interrupted by a soft tug on his sleeve. Grant. "Mr. Morris? Do you want me to do last night's homework tonight? Since I wasn't able to do it today during recess?"

"That's a great idea," Crutchie agreed. "I know that arithmetic isn't the most fun thing to do, but I know if you set your mind to it, you can figure those problems out. Just try it. Then, later, if you're still having trouble, tell me and we can sit down and figure it out."

"Okay," Grant said, smiling. "Thanks, Mr. Morris. You're the best teacher ever."

Crutchie watched the nine year old boy run back into the schoolhouse to grab his homework and his bag. Grant waved wildly, before running to catch up to some of the boys who had already left. Crutchie smiled, giving a slight wave back, before turning back to the schoolhouse. Crutchie loved helping these students, even though he doubted this was the last time he'd be vomited on and he couldn't count how often he got frustrated when students. Still, the benefits greatly outweighed any of the downsides to the job. Here was where he felt most comfortable. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the ranch work that Claude would assign for him; Crutchie loved that too. He just couldn't shake the feeling that it was as a teacher that he could make the biggest difference.

Yes, life was good.

* * *

 **So, we have more exposition. I'm sorry. It will get more exciting shortly. You've just gotta wait a bit longer. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, all! We finally get to take our first step towards plot in this chapter! And, Crutchie finally shut up and let someone else get to be the narrator, so that's exciting.**

* * *

JT barely resisted smirking as Sheriff Joe Palmer took a sip of the coffee he had brought from home and began loudly proclaiming its excellence and superiority. In the four years since JT had first met the Sheriff—when Claude had enlisted him to find Jessie and Crutchie after they had been kidnapped by Gabriel—Joe Palmer's white hair seemed to have grown even whiter, if that was possible. The man was getting older and all three of the deputies knew it; everyone was vying for the position they suspected he would be vacating sooner rather than later.

In fact, that had been why the Sheriff had even started advertising his need for a deputy. After his original deputy, a small, burly man by the name of Wilbur Cox, had been shot and killed, Joe Palmer had stuck to himself. Even though he had been urged countless times to replace the fallen man, the Sheriff had resisted. Now, however, he was aging, and the help was necessary. Plus, Sheriff Palmer had already explained that he would be choosing his successor between the three of them.

"Oh, cheap. Using Jessie to win over ol' Joe? Isn't that against the rules?"

"I didn't realize there were 'rules' involved," JT remarked, turning to Phillip Beaurocrav. The other man was much taller than he had been four years ago, though JT still remained the taller of the two. His black hair had filled out more, the thin black locks thickening until they shone in the right light. Phillip had piercing brown eyes and a crooked nose that he sported as testament to his willingness to do anything to stop crime: one robber had broken his nose and now, at every bar, Phillip was quick to regale the events of the robbery that had left him scarred. JT knew that there were countless girls in Santa Fe who flirted with Phillip, yet he only seemed interested in the one girl who JT doubted would ever give him a second glance.

"So, speaking of Jessie, do you think I could come over to your house for dinner and talk to her tonight?"

JT raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize we were speaking of Jessie. I thought we were talking about the rules regarding becoming the next sheriff."

Phillip's ears reddened slightly. "I thought we could talk about something more…"

"Interesting?" JT suggested.

"Oh, come on, JT. If you liked a girl, you know I wouldn't give you a hard time," Phillip complained.

"Really?" JT challenged. "Because I once had a huge crush on Sally DeSilvo and you called me a—"

"'Blind chowderhead with rocks for eyes,' yeah, I remember. It was a bit wordy, wasn't it? In my defense, though, you were. She had a face that looked like horse had sat on it when she was a child and had only stood up a couple years later."

JT shook his head. "She wasn't that bad, Phillip. You were probably just jealous that she liked me instead of you," JT suggested, nudging the other deputy with his shoulder.

"Me? Jealous? Never."

"Of course not," JT sarcastically agreed, rolling his eyes at Phillip's mock-innocence. JT started to step away from Phillip, to go remind Sheriff Palmer that _he_ had been the one to bring the wonderful coffee, but Phillip grabbed his arm.

"Well?" Phillip demanded, somewhat anxiously, to JT's amusement.

"Well, what? I agreed you weren't jealous." JT started forward again, but Phillip held him back.

"No, not that. About coming over tonight. I just want to talk to your sister a little bit. I think I have some news that may help her see me in a new light."

JT shrugged. "Sure, but I don't think that Jessie will be easy to win over. She hasn't exactly been interested in any men that I know of for the past couple years."

"I haven't been an eligible bachelor for the past couple years," Phillip quickly countered.

"Okay, okay, fine. Just don't hold your breath, is all I'm saying." JT turned to face Phillip. "Besides, what sort of news to you have that will change her mind?"

Phillip smiled. "Let's just say that I recently have come into some inheritance."

"What sort of inheritance? Isn't your pa still—"

"Yeah, he's fine. I've got this old uncle that always liked me and he just kicked the bucket and left me his ranch and some servants and a whole mountain of cash."

JT's eyes widened. "That's great, Phillip! I'm sorry about your uncle and all, but, wow." JT huffed out a laugh, envisioning what he would do with an inheritance like that. JT didn't care so much about having a ranch for himself, but figured it would be pretty nice to have his own house. He could envision the large, cream pillars that stretched from an immaculate lawn to a wide, sloping roof. There would be winding staircases and secret passageways that opened up into the kitchen and the stables. He'd have giant parties in the main hall and all the rich, uppity people would come and simply gawk at the splendor and JT would just stand in the corner, sip his champagne, and laugh. "So, what are you doing here?" JT asked. "Why don't you go to your new home?"

"Unfortunately, it isn't that easy. There was a caveat to the inheritance: I've got to be married."

"Ah. And that's where Jessie comes in," JT commented, understanding exactly why Phillip was suddenly so eager to meet with his sister. Phillip had been on and off courting—in the loosest sense of the term, since Jessie was civil, at best, with the younger man—Jessie for the past four months, but nothing had really happened. Phillip liked to say that he was moving slowly, that he respected Jessie and didn't want to force her into anything, but now, the only way to get the ranch and all the money would be for Phillip to marry Jessie.

"Exactly. Now you understand how important it is that I talk to her tonight. I'll explain everything that's going on and when she understands, well, I don't expect it to take her too long to come to her senses."

JT shook his head, still hesitant with the whole plan. "I don't know, Phillip. I mean, you know Jessie. She isn't the type that would just bend over backwards because you wanted a ranch. Isn't there anyone else that you'd be interested in?"

Phillip scoffed. "Beyond Jessie? Hell, no. Of course you wouldn't understand this, JT, but your sister is gorgeous. She is the most beautiful woman to walk the land. And I'm the best-looking bachelor of the whole town. Marrying anyone else would just be demeaning. To both of us! Sorry, but it's got to be Jessie."

"Okay, well, then maybe you just shouldn't expect that inheritance for a while yet," JT pointed out, laughing. "The day Jessie actually discovers she has _romantic feelings_ for a guy is the day I decide that I don't even want to be sheriff. It's never going to happen."

"Just you wait," Phillip challenged. "Jessie will be married this time next year and it's going to be to me."

JT held his hands up in surrender. "If you can do it…"

"What are you guys chatting about?" Everett van Holden asked. He was the third deputy in the running to be the next sheriff, but was a couple years older than JT and Phillip. Everett had just turned twenty-three a couple months previous, but had been brought on as a deputy around the same time as the younger deputies. He had long blonde hair that reached down to his shoulders and bright blue eyes that were constantly darting around the room. He was tall and gangly, but quite sufficient with a gun and, easily, the best rider of the three.

"Oh, Phillip, here, thinks he's going to get Jessie to fall in love with him."

Everett's eyebrows shot up. "Jessie? Your Jessie?" he asked JT. "Jessie Holloway?"

"Yes, that Jessie," Phillip cut in. "What's so surprising about that?"

With a smile, Everett shook his head. "Nothing, Phillip. It will only be surprising if you manage it."

"Just you watch," Phillip challenged. "I will and then you guys will be the fools."

The three young men were interrupted when Sheriff Joe Palmer came over, swallowing the last of his coffee. "Okay, which one of you lads brought in that coffee?"

JT raised his hand somewhat sheepishly. He was barely able to keep the smirk from his face. The position as the new sheriff was going to be his and there was nothing Phillip or Everett could do about it. "That would be me, sir."

"Well, Holloway, this is spectacular coffee. You brew it yourself?"

"My sister, sir."

Sheriff Palmer glanced in his mug, perhaps to recheck that, yes, he had drunk the last of the coffee, before looking back up. "You can tell your sister that she is amazing."

Under his breath, Phillip added, "You can say that again."

"Oh, shut up, Romeo," JT hissed at him, before turning back to the sheriff and smiling widely. "Of course. Thank you."

"Anyway," Sheriff Palmer said, setting his mug down and rubbing his hands together. "These past couple of days have been slow and we, thankfully, don't have anyone in the cells right now, so do you know what that means?"

JT barely resisted groaning. They all knew what that meant. He shared a meaningful glance with Everett. Whenever there wasn't anything major going on, the sheriff liked to have the deputies ride around town and remind the citizens of the presence of the police. Especially in places that had a reputation for less-than-lawful behavior, which meant that they'd have to check in on the tavern a couple times that day. Sheriff Palmer liked to explain that it was a way to allow the average people to feel protected, but all it really did was make the deputies targets for drunken attacks and pranks. JT enjoyed interacting with the good, lawful citizens that liked to approach him and strike up a conversation, but JT hated it when he had to arrest people for public drunkenness or idiotic excuses such as that. All it did was rub the drunks the wrong way and JT wasn't exactly keen on arresting someone for something that technically wasn't hurting anyone else. Usually, the drunks would just slink off to a corner of a tavern and sleep off the alcohol, but now they would be rounded up and sent off to jail. He understood why it was necessary; it was the only way to continue to receive money from the government. There was a certain quota of prisoners that needed to be arrested to maintain the income from the government, but it didn't make JT feel any better about it.

"I would just like you to ride around," Sheriff Palmer continued, either oblivious to the displeasure that his deputies expressed or ignoring it, "and make sure that you sweep by the tavern and the bank. Be aware of any disorderly conduct and don't be afraid to bring people in to sober up."

"Yes, sir," the three deputies chorused, before leaving the building to saddle their horses and start the slow days' duties.

As soon as they were out of the sheriff's earshot, Everett challenged, "Person with the worst attack by the end of the day has to buy the other two a round of beer. You up for it?"

JT shook his head. "Not tonight, Everett."

"Well, how about you Phillip? You willing to put some money on the line?"

"Nah, I don't think so. I'm going to JT's house for dinner tonight."

Everett smirked. "Oh. Got to get an in with Jessie. I get it."

"Guess you'll be drinking alone," JT teased.

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking the pair of you are my only friends."

"Sorry," Phillip apologized. "I keep forgetting that you count your mother as one of your friends."

Everett frowned as JT laughed at Phillip's comment. "Laugh it up," he muttered, bridling his horse. "Anyway, good luck with Jessie." He grinned, before adding, "You'll need it." With that, Everett swung himself up into the saddle, before pulling his horse into a trot and making his way down the street.

"I'll meet up with you here at five?" JT asked. "Then we can head back to my place?"

Phillip nodded. "Sounds good. And, JT, thanks again. It really means a lot to me that you're helping me with Jessie. She… She's just perfect and I can't imagine my life without her," Phillip explained earnestly.

"Of course, Phillip. What else are friends for besides hooking a friend up with their sister?" JT asked sarcastically. He had no idea how the night would turn out, but he truly doubted that it would end the way Phillip envisioned.

* * *

"—and then I ask her if her head or her stomach hurts because I'm a caring teacher, as I'm sure you all know, but, instead of answering, Leslie vomits all over the floor. And my boots." A ripple of laughter at the story had JT grinning as he led Phillip into the room. "No, I'm serious. And then she threw up two more times. Still on me. So, no, Jack, I did not have the greatest day despite your—" Crutchie stopped short when JT and Phillip entered the room.

"I invited Phillip over for dinner," JT announced.

Crutchie leaned over from where he was sitting and whispered something to Jessie, seated next to him, causing the redheaded girl to laugh. They both stared pointedly at Phillip for a moment, before laughing again. JT sensed Phillip bristling beside him and struggled to come up with something to say to defuse the situation.

"It's good to see you again, Phillip," Sue said. JT made a mental note to get his mother some flowers or something for saving him the trouble of trying to calm Phillip down.

"Thank you, Mrs. Holloway," Phillip replied amicably, but JT didn't believe the front for one second. "It's nice to see you all again. Especially you, Jessie. You look as radiant as the sun."

Jessie cocked her head to the side, her grin widening in an almost predatory manner. "Don't stare at the sun, kid. You'll melt your eyes right out of their sockets."

JT barely resisted slamming his palm into his forehead. _Oy vey, it would be a long night._

Phillip gaped at Jessie and before he could respond in any sort of educated manner, Sue was ushering people to the table. Crutchie fell into step with Jessie, whispering something else to her. JT figured that the pair of them would be giving Phillip the hardest time possible and wished he had the opportunity to slap some sense into both of them. Phillip yanked JT backwards, out of ear shot of the rest of his family that were sitting down. "When did Jessie become such good friends with that cri—Crutchie?" he hissed.

"They've always been close, after they were both kidnapped. Jessie and Crutchie are best friends now. But, since you're here, they're probably going to bump their friendship up a notch just to bug you. Just pretend you're not annoyed and they'll stop," JT suggested, tacitly ignoring how Phillip clearly still thought of Crutchie as just a crip. He really wouldn't fit in the family and JT figured it was his duty to somehow, nicely, break it to his friend that there was no way he would ever be truly welcome. "Look, Phillip, maybe you should just—"

"No, no," Phillip said, calming down somewhat. "I can do this. It will just be a little more difficult than I originally imagined." With that, Phillip straightened his coat, slicked his hair back into place, squared his shoulders, and entered the dining room.

JT followed with a small shake of his head. For some reason, he felt quite certain that the night would only get worse.

By the time JT and Phillip entered the dining room, the majority of the seats at the table had already been taken. Jessie had chosen a seat at the edge of the bench and Crutchie was right next to her, both grinning sarcastically at Phillip. Jack was on the opposite bench and he waved JT over, "Hey, JT, you're with me."

Which left the remaining open seat for Phillip by Crutchie. Phillip glared at the crippled boy, before taking his seat. After JT had offered a quick prayer for the food—and that his family would manage to not murder their guest, though that part was silent—Phillip spoke up, "Thanks again, Mr. and Mrs. Holloway, for letting me join you tonight."

"Oh, it's not a problem," Claude remarked as he took his seat.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, reaching for the small basket of rolls across the table. "It's always nice to see that _someone_ has taken notice of Jessie. It means that there's still hope she won't die as an old hag." He hissed and glared at Jessie after she kicked him in the shin, but made no move to speak again.

Phillip laughed, though it sounded forced to JT. "I'm sure Jessie has the pick of any eligible bachelor in Santa Fe."

"Not that she'll choose any. See, here's the problem, Phillip," JT explained, "I don't think Jessie is capable of love."

"JT," Sue warned, well aware of how quickly her children could lose their tempers and start a fight.

"I am too capable of love," Jessie protested, her face turning pink.

"Yeah, prove it," JT immediately challenged.

Crutchie spoke up. "How exactly do you propose she 'proves' that she's capable of love? There isn't anyone in this room that she could possibly fall in love with."

Phillip stiffened at the comment, but JT countered, "According to Jessie, there isn't anyone in the world that she could possibly fall in love with. Which, by the way, proves my point."

"That isn't true. I—" Jessie began.

Claude interrupted, "Okay, okay. New topic of conversation. How are things at home, Phillip? I heard your father had to put ol' Rusty down. Is that true?"

With that, the conversation moved away from love and to safer waters. JT noticed that Jessie remained subdued, prompting Phillip to ask questions to draw her into the discussion. To which Jessie would respond with monosyllabic answers. JT just wanted to grab his friend and force him to give up the attempt. Gabriel Valdez had scarred his older sister and JT wasn't fool enough to think that Jessie would be able to move on as easy as Phillip clearly expected her to be. Truly, it had been four years, but he knew that Crutchie still had nightmares of the kidnapping, though he would never tell the other man he had woken to those soft pleas for his life. JT could never tell Crutchie just how much it shook him that his brother, practically, even had needed to plead for his life and how those whispered dream-murmurs haunted JT. He didn't know the full story of what had happened to the pair, but JT understood that it still haunted both of them. And Phillip clearly didn't, or couldn't, get this.

The meal had ended and Sue and Claude had left the table, when Phillip, idiotically, pointed out, "Come on, Jessie. It's been four years since you've even shown interest in a guy. Don't you think it's about time you stepped out of your shell? I'll be there, with you, for every step of the way," he promised.

JT wanted to throttle his friend.

"The last time I 'showed interest in a guy,' as you put it, he tried to kill me and Crutchie," Jessie pointed out, her voice cold.

"It's not as if I'd kill you," Phillip explained.

"Look, Phillip, I don't know how to say this in any other way to get you to understand, but I am not interested in you. Not even remotely."

Phillip smiled softly. "Do you mind if I speak to you in private? Just for a moment."

Jessie rolled her eyes, before standing. "Make it quick, I guess."

After Phillip and Jessie had left the dining room to discuss the matters of Phillip's inheritance, as JT suspected, Jack spoke up, "He's quite the charmer, ain't he."

"He's trying," JT said, attempting to stand up for Phillip. "He does really like her, you know."

"Yeah, but maybe that isn't the only important thing about a relationship. They have to be good for each other," Crutchie pointed out, grinning. He laughed, as if the comment was actually some sort of joke that JT and Jack didn't understand.

Jack shrugged, ignoring Crutchie. "I don't know, JT. I've just never really liked him. Especially after…" Jack trailed off, glancing at Crutchie. "You know," he said meaningfully.

"After he bullied me?" Crutchie filled in. "As it turns out, I'm not that fond of him, either."

"He's better," JT defended. "He was a kid back then. We all were."

"And what are we now?" Crutchie queried.

At that moment, Phillip and Jessie returned to the table, Jessie's face stormy. Phillip glanced at Jessie, his expression unreadable, before he told JT, "I'm going to head home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Have a good night!" JT called out, as Phillip let himself out.

"So," Crutchie began, his tone sarcastic, "is Phillip worming his way into our family any time soon?"

Jessie grinned, though the action was wearied. "Honestly, I just can't say we're good for each other." She sighed, before continuing. "I'm just going to head to bed. I'll see you guys tomorrow morning."

"Did Phillip say anything to bother her?" Jack asked after Jessie had left the room.

"Not that I know of," JT supplied. "He wouldn't upset her on purpose. Phillip really does like her; I've never seen him so enraptured with any other girl."

"That may be," Crutchie remarked, grabbing his crutch and standing up, "but I still don't trust him."

* * *

 **So, that was that chapter. Did you guys like it? How do you feel about Phillip? Reviews are literally the best!**

 **Also, I do have a story for you guys. I ended up telling one of my good friends from college that I wrote fanfiction. And, since she was actually the one who introduced me to Newsies, I told her I wrote Newsies fanfiction. She turned to me and said, "Ostrich, please tell me you aren't the type of author that just kills Crutchie for the fun of it." I had no response. What do you do in that moment? Tell the truth that, yes, I've killed Crutchie more times than he deserves? Or lie and make her feel better? My silence must have been answer enough because she just sighed and muttered, "I did not tell you to listen to that musical so you could go around killing cinnamon rolls." And that is the story of how my friend now knows that I kill Crutchie in Newsies fanfiction...**


	4. Chapter 4

**And a happy Friday to you all! I hope you guys are enjoying this story. It's been super fun to write. And where I am right now, it's finally getting to the good stuff...**

* * *

The next morning, Crutchie pulled himself up before the sun had even dawned. He glanced at JT's sleeping form across the room, thankful to see that the other boy was still asleep. The nightmares had started back up again. Every year, roughly around the time he had been kidnapped by Gabriel and company, Crutchie's dreams would turn dark and gripping. This morning, thankfully, he didn't remember any of the images that had clawed and ripped and tore him out of bed. All that remained was a clutching stone of fear that froze Crutchie's stomach.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. It's all over," Crutchie murmured to himself, pulling a fresh shirt on. It was the truth. He was fine: his wrist had healed quite nicely a month after those horrid events and he was still breathing, which was a definite positive. Plus, Gabriel and Manuel were in jail and there was no way they could get to Crutchie ever again. "I'm fine," he whispered once more, placing his Stetson on his head and exiting the room.

When Crutchie made his way to the dining room, he was greeted with a, "You're up early."

Crutchie glanced at Jessie. "You're not one to talk."

Jessie acknowledged that that was a fair point. "But," she continued, "I'm almost always up at this time. You usually sleep in a little longer."

With a shrug, Crutchie sat down at the table. "Just wasn't exactly interested in sleeping in anymore," he commented lightly, reaching for the pot of coffee in the center of the table. That was a benefit for getting up early: this time he could actually partake of the coffee without having to steal from Jack.

"Nightmare?" Jessie asked, her voice careful.

"Yes, but, Jessie, it's fine. It wasn't anything bad. I don't even remember what it was," Crutchie quickly explained. He knew that Jessie was often prone to blame herself for the nightmares that still plagued Crutchie. And it was stupid, because Crutchie had clarified time and time again that he didn't blame her. If anyone was at fault, it was Gabriel. Not Jessie.

"Mm," Jessie hummed softly, her eyes fixating on the table.

"Honest, Jessie. I'm fine. We're both fine. We've been fine for years," he reassured her.

Words carefully enunciated, Jessie explained, "I had hoped that the nightmares would have stopped by now. It's been four years…" She still wouldn't look up and Crutchie felt guilty for even telling her why he was up earlier than usual.

"It's no big deal. I've been working with nightmares for years before I met you." Crutchie hesitated, before adding, "I-it's not anything new, r-really." He hated how he had stuttered, his fear shining through; Jessie was sure to have noticed that. There was a moment of silence and Crutchie hoped that maybe Jessie was accepting that he would always be living with the aftereffects of his life. He had accepted his lot in life ages ago. Nearly everything that had happened to him had only added fuel to the bad dreams: his mother, the Refuge, Ms. Briarwood and that dreaded switch, Phillip and his cronies, everything that had gone down with Gabriel. Crutchie wasn't fool enough to hope that he would ever sleep freely again.

"I don't have nightmares," Jessie blurted out. "I—I don't and—"

"That's great, Jessie. I wouldn't want you to experience those."

"But, we both went through the same thing, yet I feel like nothing bad happens to me because of it. I'm fine and you're—"

"Fine, also," Crutchie supplied.

Jessie stared at him, before looking away, smiling tiredly. "This'll just turn into a fight, won't it?"

"I prefer the term 'friendly argument,' but, yeah, it sure looks like it." Crutchie smiled back at her. "Really, though. I know you don't believe me or understand, but if nightmares are the only thing that I have to go through, I'll count that as a good thing. It's nothing I can't handle, Jessie."

"Okay," Jessie agreed softly. "Okay, I'll believe you. But, if you do need to talk to someone about… _you know_ … I'm here." She smiled and this time it was wider and more genuine. "I've been through the same things."

"You're right. I do recall an annoying redhead—"

"Crutchie," Jessie quickly interrupted, "you must be losing your mind. JT wasn't there." She grinned sarcastically at him, further proof that, at least for now, she wouldn't dig at the nightmares, would allow Crutchie to work through it on his own.

"Okay, good one," Crutchie agreed, laughing. "You know," he said, his voice growing more serious, "Jessie, you and Jack are the two people I trust the most. After… everything, I didn't think I'd find someone that I could ever trust or, well, love. I doubted I would ever have a family again. But, then I met Jack. And now I know you. Jessie, you're my best friend."

Jessie glanced down at the table, softly agreeing, "Yeah… You're my best friend, too, Crutchie." Silence stretched between them. It wasn't the normal, companionable silence that Crutchie was accustomed to. This was stiff, almost icy.

Crutchie watched her, suddenly fearful that he had said the wrong thing. _Of course_ , he mentally berated, _she only thinks of me as that weird kid her father took in. Best friend? Never. I should never have told her. All I've got is Jack. And that's okay. I don't need Jessie. She's just a good friend_. Before Crutchie could think of something to say to ease the sudden tension between the pair, Jack entered the dining room, cheerfully oblivious to the tense silence.

"Hey, Jessie. Crutchie. How's it going?"

Crutchie had never been so happy to see Jack before in his life. Well, no, that wasn't quite true. The day he had gotten out of the Refuge and returning from Gabriel's abduction were two instances that stood out as moments that he was probably happier to see Jack, but still. This was up there. Once again, Jack was coming to the rescue. "Great," Crutchie replied happily, thankful to move on from whatever awkwardness he had inadvertently created. "You?"

"Pretty good," Jack said, sitting down. He glanced between the pair of them, noticing how both Crutchie and Jessie were pointedly not looking at each other. "Um, did I interrupt anything?" he asked, slightly confused.

"What? No!" Crutchie exclaimed. "We were just talking a little before you came in. Nothing interesting." Jessie nodded her agreement.

Jack shrugged. If Crutchie really was having issues, he would come to Jack. After his near-death experience, Crutchie had been quick to talk to Jack. He had explained, one night, his voice muted with memories, _I just never want to feel like there are things left unsaid between us, in case I die._ It had scared Jack a little, the thought that Crutchie could be in a situation where he would even need to think like that, but there had been benefits to the confession. Now, Crutchie told Jack just about everything that mattered. There were no more secrets between the best friends. So, if Jessie had truly done something to bother Crutchie, Jack figured he would hear about it soon enough. Or, everything really would be just fine and Crutchie would have no need to talk to Jack.

"Okay," Jack agreed. "You don't have to get so defensive. I trust you." Jack had no clue what he said, but he must have said something wrong, because both Crutchie and Jessie stiffened at the comment.

"Oh, good, you're all out here already," Claude said, entering the dining room. "So, Jack, I think this will be a job for you," Claude announced, sitting at the table. Crutchie noticed that today, especially, the older Holloway truly looked his age. For the most part, Crutchie had been of the opinion that Claude looked youthful. Today, however, the wrinkles around Claude's eyes were more distinguished, more lined. They were all getting older, not just Claude, and it was strange to Crutchie, who, in the past, when imagining his future, had only envisioned a boy selling papers on the street to disinterested New Yorkers. He was twenty now and he just felt as if he couldn't possibly be this old, shouldn't be this old.

"Should I be worried?" Jack joked. "Singling me out like this?"

"No, of course not," Claude reassured. "This fellow just… I don't know how much he would appreciate Jessie or Crutchie coming to him. He's quite the… uh, traditionalist."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Um, okay. What am I doing, again? And why aren't you going?"

"Diego Martinez purchased two of our steers, so you'd just be bringing them along to him. I'm meeting up with Tim today, so I wouldn't be able to deliver them," Claude explained, "but Martinez is still adamant he needs the steers today. If you wouldn't mind taking them over, that would be fantastic, Jack."

"Yeah, of course. I don't mind. But you don't think he'd like Jessie or Crutchie?"

Claude shook his head, almost disapprovingly. "Martinez has never been a fan of women ranchers and I'm not sure he would respect Crutchie enough. Normally, I don't even do much business with him, but he is willing to pay more than I would have asked for the steers." Claude shook his head once more. "I can't turn down money like that."

"Okay, should I start out now?" Jack asked, getting up from his seat.

"No, he won't expect them until around midday."

"And the Martinez's live...?"

"Just past the Cook's homestead. About five miles east. You can't miss it," Claude informed. "But, if you could work on the ranch with Jessie and Crutchie until then, that would be perfect."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, of course." He turned to Jessie and Crutchie, who, Jack was surprised, were still somewhat stiff around each other. "Are you guys about ready to go?"

Jessie nodded immediately. "Yes. Let's get out there."

Crutchie frowned, but stood up also. "Okay," he agreed.

Jack glanced between the pair, but didn't spend much longer worrying about them. They were good friends; it would, undoubtedly, be completely worked out by dinner time.

* * *

Crutchie settled down under one of the trees on the ranch, leaning against the trunk. He glanced out, across the land, but no one was in sight. "Ah, well," he muttered to himself. "It's not like I expected anything else." For the past couple years, Crutchie and Jessie would meet up to eat lunch together. Jack would join every once in a while, but it was generally just the pair of them. Crutchie had hoped that Jessie would show up so he could ask her what exactly he had said that had bothered her earlier. He had gone over every line, every syllable, but nothing struck him as something that would have caused the rift. He had said he thought of her as his best friend and Crutchie would never have thought that that would have caused a problem, or else he never would have said anything. And now…

"I'm practically two minutes late and you've already started eating without me. Now I know how you truly feel about me," Jessie wryly remarked, sitting down next to Crutchie.

The bite of sandwich lodged in Crutchie's throat as he glanced at her in surprise. Swallowing thickly, Crutchie explained, "I thought, after this morning…" before trailing off.

Jessie shrugged, taking a bite of her own sandwich, but she made no move to speak.

"Are we okay?" Crutchie asked. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I had just thought that, after everything, maybe you would consider me your best friend, but I totally understand." Crutchie laughed humorlessly. "I mean, it's not like you even chose for me to live with you and I understand that you would—"

"Crutchie?" Jessie interrupted, turning to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Crutchie grinned. Maybe things were just fine between them. "Got it."

Jessie chewed on a bite of sandwich for a long moment, before starting, "Look, I'm sorry about this morning. It just took me by surprise. I had thought—" She fell silent. "Why do you even want to be friends with me? I nearly got you killed."

"That was four years ago," Crutchie pointed out. "And I wasn't entirely keen on being friends back then. But, I know you now. You're funny. And kind—when you haven't fallen in love with a homicidal kidnapper. I don't know, I just feel like I can be completely open with you about everything. I've only had that once before, with Jack. I don't know where I would be without the pair of you."

Jessie's face twisted somewhat as she took another bite. "I think of you as my best friend, too," she admitted. "I'm not super good at friends. I've been told my personality is too abrasive." She glared at Crutchie when he chuckled. "I think that's one of the reasons I liked Gabriel so much. He was one of the few people who actually appreciated me for who I am." She snorted. "And then he tried to kill you, which sorta put a damper on that relationship. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that you are my best friend. I'm just not used to someone saying that to me."

"Well, that's their loss," Crutchie asserted. "I think you're great."

"Great," Jessie said softly, smiling.

The pair fell into companionable silence, until Crutchie asked, "So, I was just curious, but what did Phillip say to you when he wanted to speak in private?" Crutchie wiggled his eyebrows at Jessie. "Did you kiss?"

"Ugh, I'd rather Gabriel kidnap me again," Jessie groaned. "No, nothing like that. Well, I suppose it is like that," she amended, thinking. "He wants to marry me."

Crutchie hooted, laughing. "Didn't see that one coming."

"But, it gets worse," Jessie continued. "I'm not sure how much he even likes me. I mean, he _says_ he does, but then when he was talking to me, he explained why he wanted to marry me. And it's not the expected I-couldn't-live-without-you or you're-perfect trope. No, apparently he had some uncle who bit the dust and left a ranch and a ton of money, on the condition that he gets hitched. I guess I'm just the only eligible maiden available," Jessie muttered, swinging her hand to her forehead in mock distress and helplessness. "And now my prince wants to rescue me in order to win his inheritance."

"How romantic," Crutchie intoned, jokingly serious. "You can't turn a proposal like that down."

"I know, that's what I was thinking," Jessie agreed. She shook her head, before frowning. Jessie glanced at Crutchie. "I would never marry him, though."

"Well, duh," Crutchie responded. He noticed that Jessie was still watching him carefully. "Why? Did he say anything else? I did notice that you looked angry when you two came back to the dining room."

Jessie half-shrugged. "He said I needed to get out of the house. That I should be spending time with people of more class than an orphan and a crip." She glanced at Crutchie once more. "His words, not mine," she clarified, turning back away to survey the ranch land. "Anyway, he explained that, yes, my family had once been of a certain caliber, but once pa started taking in street urchins, it all went downhill. He offered to bring me back to where I once was in society."

Crutchie was silent for a moment. "Do you… do you agree with him?"

"Hell, no, Crutchie. You and Jack are two of the best people I've ever met. If Phillip had approached me about this four years ago, yeah, maybe I would have agreed. But, not now. Not now that I know you and Jack."

"That's good, then."

"Yeah, it is."

"So, are you going to marry him?"

Jessie laughed. "Never. With my luck, he'd try to kill you, too."

"That has been a problem as of late," Crutchie agreed.

"It's not exactly looking like I have great prospects of marriage," Jessie remarked lightly, tugging at some of the grass by her side.

"So?" Crutchie challenged. "Neither do Jack and I. We're doing fine."

Jessie shrugged. "It's not the same. Everyone expects me to get married. Just settle down and pop out a couple of babies. What if that just isn't me?"

"Then, that's fine. And if you do find someone you'd want to 'settle down and pop out a couple babies' with, then that's fine, too." Crutchie smiled. "I guarantee your family wouldn't care. And who cares what the rest of Santa Fe thinks? Everyone said I couldn't be a rancher with my leg and look at me now. Proving 'em wrong, one day at a time."

"As I recall," Jessie began, "you were one of those that said you couldn't be a rancher. Weren't you the one who ran all the way back to New York because you didn't think you could do it?"

Crutchie waved his hand, brushing the comment away. "Irrelevant. All I'm saying is that you can do whatever you want, short of abduction and murder, and the people who matter to you won't give a damn. We'll all love you for being you, Jessie."

Jessie stared at him for a moment, before whispering. "You sure do give some good advice."

"It has been said."

"You know, I'm glad you didn't die back when Gabriel took us," Jessie said, resettling herself against the tree.

Crutchie laughed. "Me, too, actually. I have a horse now and I would've totally missed that if I were dead."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Yep, that horse is the only reason to keep on living."

"Okay, okay, fine. I have all of you Holloways. And Jack. And the kids at the school. But, you must admit, Jessie, Dustin is a pretty cool horse."

"I'll give you that. Dustin is a fine horse."

"And, just so we're clear, I'm glad that Gabriel didn't kill you either."

Jessie smiled. "Oh, good. I was worried that you regretted standing up to him at the end."

"Can you believe that actually happened?" Crutchie asked. "It feels so unreal. We were abducted, almost killed. And then you managed to beat him over the head and we escaped. It sounds like one of those crazy stories JT likes to make up."

"Life is strange."

"That it is."

"I don't think I would trade those experiences, though," Jessie confessed.

"Neither would I."

"Huh. That makes two of us."

"Good."

"Good."

Crutchie hummed softly. "Life is pretty good."

"Yes," Jessie whispered. "Yes, it is."

* * *

 **Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome! Tell me what you think about this chapter; I really love hearing everyone's opinions.**

 **Anyway, I've got a question that I don't know if you guys actually know the answer to. But, I'll try anyway. Is there a way to request fan art? Like, is that even a possibility? I have these great ideas for a cute/sad (I mean, come on guys, you know me...) picture of Jack and Crutchie but I have the artistic talent of a myopic guinea pig. So, if anyone has any advice or if you're an artist (!), I would be greatly interested in your advice.**

 **That's it. Have a fabulous week. Ostrich, out!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy Friday everyone! We're just at the tail-end of all the exposition; next chapter we really start getting into the plot. And, I know, I know, five chapters of exposition is pretty long, but, guys, this is a really long story. So, trust me, you will get all the feelz and hurt/comfort and angst that you can dream of. Just gotta be a little patient.**

* * *

Jack glanced up from where he was working on forking the hay to where the cattle could access it, noticing the figure approaching in the distance. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, before tossing the rest of the hay into the pile for the cattle. It was a long and straining chore and took way longer than Jack thought strictly necessary. Luckily, the cattle could stomach just about any type of hay, unlike the horses that required more high-quality hay. Which required more sorting and ensuring that the horses were being fed the best to retain their health.

"Just about done?" Claude asked, reining Storm up beside Jack, who looked up, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Yeah, just finished." He shook his head, readjusting the Stetson that helped shade most of his face from the endless sun. Jack used to hate the constant shadows from the towering buildings of New York City, but now he just wished for some form of relief from the indefatigable sun. Not that he ever really wanted to return to New York, but he could sure use some of those giant buildings right about now. "Holy crap, they eat so much hay," he remarked, glancing at the cattle that crowded for the feed. "I feed them every day and every day it still manages to amaze me."

Claude laughed. "You never quite get used to it. They're remarkable animals, aren't they?"

"Much better than New York. All we had were rats."

"And alligators?"

"And alligators," Jack agreed, grinning. He hadn't thought of that night, four years previous. That had been before Jack and Crutchie had found their home among the Holloways. In fact, Jack wasn't entirely sure what his plan was going to be beyond the Holloways. It was mighty lucky that Claude had decided to take in the pair of ex-New Yorkers.

Claude glanced up at the sky, determining the position of the sun. "It's about that time," he informed Jack. "If you could take those steers over to Martinez, that would be great. I need to get going to be on time to meet with Tim."

"Of course. You just have them over…?"

"At the edge of the ranch. They are both tethered to the fence over there. And the Martinez homestead is just past—"

"The Cook's. Yep, I've got it." Jack smiled. "Did Martinez already pay you, or should I be expecting some form of payment?"

"He already paid, so all you have to do is drop them off. Easy as pie."

"Huh," Jack muttered. "I tried to make pie once and, let me tell you, it is not nearly as easy as you'd think."

"Oh, trust me," Claude quickly countered, "I know. We all tasted that monstrosity and I don't think anyone will ever be able to forget it."

"So, I can't cook. Sue me."

"I think that would technically be baking," Claude pointed out.

"Which I also can't do. I can take those steers to Mr. Martinez, however. It will be even easier than pie."

Claude shook his head, fighting a grin off his face. "I sure hope so. It would be mighty embarrassing if you managed to mess that up."

"Come on, Claude. Surely, you trust me by now?"

"Yes, of course, I do," Claude agreed, clapping his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Now, go get those steers to Martinez before he decides to charge me for waiting, or something like that."

However, as Jack quickly discovered, taking two steers only three miles was much more difficult than baking some measly pie. Not only had Jack struggled to keep himself from being gored by the beasts, he barely managed to keep the steers from charging a small child. It took nearly an hour for Jack to tug the tenacious beasts along to the Martinez's house.

Eventually, the house came into view, a small, brown building with two windows and a carefully-tended garden out front. Jack leaped lightly from his horse, a dappled creature that had been named Plunky by an over-eager Wesley. Jack had tried to change the name to something kinder and not as childish, but Wesley had thrown a fit—and Clark had grinned sarcastically and challenged Jack to turn a pouting two year old's dream down—and Jack couldn't bring himself to change the horse's name. So, the Holloways had horses by the name of Storm and Dustin and Paint and Chocolate and now, Plunky.

With a soft smile, Jack tied the steers to a nearby tree, before taking the steps up to the front door, two at a time. He knocked a couple times, before stepping back and waiting for Diego Martinez to come claim the obnoxious steers that Jack truly just wanted out of his hair.

The door swung open and Jack stepped back a second, pulling his Stetson off his head. "Oh, sorry. Um, I'm looking for Diego Martinez. I have, uh, cows, I mean, steers," Jack explained, jerking his thumb behind him to point to the two steers that were currently occupying themselves with tearing up the Martinez's tulips. "Oh, crap," Jack muttered, realizing what was happening. "I can stop them, maybe. Let me—"

"Who are you, again?"

Jack glanced up, before quickly sticking out his hand. "Jack Kelly. Pleased to meet you."

The young woman before him—a tall, regal looking woman, with coarse black hair that extended down to the middle of her back—snorted softly. She had dark brown eyes that watched Jack with undisguised suspicion, flicking meaningfully to Jack's begrimed hands, before returning to meet his eyes. "I'll hold off on that handshake, if you don't mind. I'm Isabela Martinez. You wished to speak with my father?"

"Yes, those steers are for him. He bought them from Claude Holloway."

"You're not one of the Holloway boys, though."

"A startling observation. No, I'm not. At least not by blood, I suppose. Claude took me and my brother—well, basically brother—in four years ago. I've been helping on the ranch ever since."

"Huh," the girl, Isabela, murmured. "My father is out in the back. Would you like to come in?" she offered.

"Yeah, sure, but what about the steers?" Jack asked, jerking his thumb back at the animals in question.

"Leave them," she instructed, waving Jack inside. "Ria!" she called out, and a small girl, maybe six, peered into the living room. "Vas por Papi. Rapida."

Jack smiled at the small girl, who grinned at him, revealing that she was missing her two front teeth, the gap large and adorable in her mouth. "Si, Isi," Ria said, dashing away.

"Isi, huh?" Jack asked, sidling up beside the young woman.

"Not to you," Isabela shot back.

With a shrug, Jack stepped past Isabela to examine a photo of the family. "Whatever you say, Bella." He ignored her sputtered indignations, focusing on the picture. Each member of the family stood still, faces hard and cold. "You're quite the smiley bunch," he commented lightly. He could pick Isabela out of the group; she was standing next to her father, who had his hands on her mother's shoulders. A tall, older brother stood next to Isabela. There were two teenaged boys that Jack hadn't met standing in front of Isabela, and a small girl that looked to be about eleven or twelve beside them. In Isabela's mother's arms lay a small baby; Ria, Jack suspected. "It's a good picture," he observed.

"Maybe," Isabela whispered.

Jack pointed to the baby Ria. "A bit old, though, wouldn't you say?"

"It's all we're going to get," Isabela muttered cryptically, before walking away.

"What does that mean?" Jack asked. He had never been one to let a hint like that go. It used to bug Crutchie, how Jack would pry and pry until the younger boy opened up to him. But, and Crutchie would have to admit it, too, it was effective; Jack and Crutchie understood each other more than he had ever thought possible.

Isabela turned on Jack, her eyes sparking. "It means nothing to you."

"Oh, come on, Bella," Jack pleaded.

"Isabella," she corrected. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Jack grinned cockily. "Nope. New York City, born and raised."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how they do things in New York, but here, we don't pry into others' lives."

The grin fell instantly. "Look, I'm sorry," Jack quickly apologized. "I—I just thought that you were joking, or—"

"No, frankly, you just weren't thinking at all," Isabela cut Jack off. She glanced out of the living room. "Where is my father…" she muttered.

"How about I try and make this up to you?" Jack offered.

Isabela shot him a doubtful glance. "Yeah? How's that?"

"We could go out for lunch," he suggested. "There's that really good restaurant off of Main, where—"

"I don't think so," Isabela interrupted. "Thank you, but no."

"Ah, it was worth a shot," Jack muttered, running his hand across a window sill. "So, how do you like Santa Fe?"

Isabela hurled a withering look in his direction. "Really? That's the type of conversation you want to get into?"

Jack ignored her. "You love Santa Fe? What a coincidence. So do I. Your turn to ask a question."

He remained silent for a moment and Isabela rolled her eyes. "This is ridiculous," she muttered.

"How did I end up here?" Jack wagged his finger disapprovingly in her direction. "If I don't get your tragic backstory, you certainly don't get mine. Next. My turn. What's your favorite food? For example, if you could only eat one dish for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

"You can stop now," Isabela suggested. "You sound like an idiot."

"That's a good choice. I prefer spaghetti. There was this restaurant back in New York where you could watch the guy make the noodles and sometimes, if he over-salted something or messed it up somehow, he'd give the plate to you and, man, was that good spaghetti. You ever had spaghetti? No? Well, miss, you are certainly missing out on the good parts of life."

Isabela sank down into a chair, her head falling into her hand in defeat. "I absolutely hate you."

"Why, no, I have not been to the Rio Grande, but I'd like to go sometime. You haven't either? Well, we could go together."

"You are insufferable."

"My turn," Jack continued, grinning at Isabela. "Let's see… What's your favorite type of flower?"

Before Jack could answer the question for either Isabela or himself, Diego Martinez entered the room. "You the Holloway boy?" Martinez bellowed.

"Yes, sir," Jack said, figuring that it was best to just agree, rather than explain the whole taking-in situation.

"And the steers are…?"

"Just outside," Jack said, gesturing out the window to where the two steers remained, chewing on the tulips. "…still eating your flowers," he finished, embarrassed. Martinez glowered at Jack, who nodded. "Yes, well, I'll just get going," he said, backing out and replacing his hat. Without a glance backwards, Jack quickly left the Martinez household and went to where his horse was tethered in the yard.

As he started to untie Plunky, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, Isabela gathering the steers and starting to lead them to the backyard. She paused, glancing back at him and smiling somewhat. "Dandelions," she said, before leaving.

"Dandelions?" Jack called out in confusion, but she didn't respond and, soon, was out of sight. A smile quirked as he remembered his final question: _What's your favorite type of flower?_ "Dandelions…"

* * *

Jack glanced up at the darkening sky, allowing a smile to break out across his face. Finally. After he had returned from bringing the steers over to the Martinez's, he had been put in charge of transferring the sheep to a new pasture, closer to the ranch house. Generally, the Holloways wouldn't move the sheep this late in the year, but another couple sheep had been stolen the night before and Claude wanted his flock nearer to his house, an extra effort to keep them from being stolen once more. Now that the sheep had been transferred over, Jack could finally call it a day.

Sue was probably just finishing up dinner and Jack was starving. He hadn't had time to grab lunch after bringing the steers to the Martinez's house, instead quickly working to transfer the sheep over to their new pasture. His stomach growled, the noise deep and shifting. Jack smiled, placing his hand on the noisy organ. "Really," he muttered, "you've gone much longer without food before," he reminded his innards. And it was true. Jack could recall far too many nights in New York spent clutching his stomach and trying to ignore the hollow feeling that only deepened as the days stretched on. But, those starved, crippling days were past; Jack was never in want of food anymore. He had a home, warm meals, a family. All were his. If someone had told Jack, five short years ago, that he would soon have a family to call his own in _Santa Fe_ , Jack would have shoved the crazy kid to the ground.

And, yet, here he was.

Grinning, Jack pushed the Holloway's back door open, allowing the warm, inclusive light to wrap around him, pushing the darkness out. "Oh, hey, Jack," Crutchie called out from where he was helping Sue set the dishes of food on the table. "How's the day been?"

"Ugh," Jack complained. "Long."

Crutchie chuckled. "Sounds fun."

"No, it wasn't. I had to take those steers to the Martinez's, but—"

Jack was interrupted when Jessie stepped into the room, shouting, "Crutch, catch!" She tossed the loaf of bread across the dining room and Crutchie barely managed to catch the loaf. The quick motion, however, did knock his crutch out from under his arm and Jack had to catch the younger man before he toppled to the ground. Jessie smirked at this. "Nice catch. Both of you."

Crutchie rolled his eyes, accepting his crutch after Jack bent to pick it up. "I wish she'd have given me a bit more warning…"

"I'm assuming that's her way of saying you're all good now?"

"Yeah, we talked during lunch today. It's all fixed."

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you say that bothered her so much?" Jack asked.

Crutchie shook his head. "Honestly, Jack, I still don't really know. I told her she was my best friend, along with you, of course. And I thought that bothered her because maybe she still just thought of me as the kid her pa took in, but, I really just don't know." Crutchie sighed. "Sometimes, I feel as if I know exactly what she's thinking, and then other times, I just don't."

"It's not just Jessie," Jack reassured Crutchie. "It's all women. They're all indecipherable. Trust me, Katherine was impossible." Jack frowned slightly, his mind turning back to the girl he had dated, before coming out to New York. Their relationship had truly been a summer romance. It had been fun, passionate, and quick. Far too soon, the differences between them had gone from cute to unbearable and Jack's head still spun from sudden change of it all. One second, they had been talking somewhat of what a future together would look like, and the next there were shouts and insults that couldn't be taken back and a door slammed in his face that Jack knew he could never open again. Re-opening those wounds when Crutchie had run back to New York City and Jack had thought Katherine was his last hope for finding the younger boy, had stung more than he had expected it to. She had been cold and distant and unable to lift a finger to help Jack find Crutchie. Which was unfair of him to think. Jack understood that she didn't have access to the fortune her father had, but he still, ever bitter, wished she had done _something_ to help him.

"Or maybe you're just dense," Crutchie suggested, smirking at Jack.

"Oh, shut up," Jack quickly countered, shoving Crutchie lightly in the shoulder. The pressure was practiced: just enough to throw Crutchie off balance, but not enough to completely topple the younger man. "I'm pretty sure I know what I'm talking. I've had loads more practice with girls than you," Jack pointed out.

Crutchie rolled his eyes. "And yet all those girls seem to have left you after only a couple months of your company…"

Jack scoffed. "Okay, first things first, I was the one doing the 'leaving,' not them, and—"

"Both of you are idiots when it comes to girls," Jessie observed, setting a dish of roast beef on the table.

"We did not ask your opinion!" Jack called out as Jessie returned to the kitchen to help her mother further. "Women…" he muttered. "Think they know everything."

"Only because we do," Sue spoke up, setting a bowl of green beans on the table.

Claude snagged one of the green beans, earning a disapproving glare from his wife. "She's right, boys. The sooner you learn that, the happier you'll be. Take it from someone who knows." He bit the green bean in half, considering. "In fact, I wish someone had told me that earlier. So, count yourselves lucky that I'm telling you now."

"Thanks, Claude," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

"This is why you're single," Jessie teased.

"Oh, you're one to speak," Jack shot back. "Besides," he added proudly, "I met a girl today."

Crutchie raised his eyebrows at that. "Oh? What's so special about this one?" Jack had come home plenty of times proclaiming about girls he had met around town, but by the next day, Jack had shrugged them off. Crutchie had no high expectations for this girl either.

"She was, I don't know, interesting."

"Interesting?"

Jack shrugged. "I really can't explain it, Crutch. She was just different. She acted like she was above me, but not like Katherine. More like—"

Jessie interrupted, "She _acted_ like she was above you, or she was simply above you? That's a clarification I think we all need."

"C'mon, Jessie," Jack complained. "You wouldn't understand. Miss Stone-Cold-Heart."

"Not true!" Jessie shouted. "Why does everyone think—"

"Let's just start dinner," Claude judiciously suggested. "And then find a new topic of discussion."

Crutchie glanced around the corner. "We aren't going to wait for JT?" he asked. "He's not back from work yet."

"I think he was planning on staying out with Phillip and Everett," Sue explained.

"Man, you give that kid a job and he never comes home," Jack muttered.

"He's wanted to be a deputy for years now, Jack. Let him live his dream," Crutchie countered.

"So? I've wanted to be a rancher, but I still manage to make it home for dinner." Jack snagged a roll. "Which, speaking of which, looks delicious Sue."

"Hey, aren't we going to pray?" Jessie asked, glaring at Jack, the roll already on his lips.

Jack rolled his eyes, but set the piece of bread down. "Only if I get to say it." After Claude had nodded his approval, Jack began, giving a short prayer about the meal and their family, before concluding with, "And please let Jessie's heart thaw sometime before the next millennia."

"Unfair!" Jessie shouted before Jack could even conclude the prayer. "I'm not—" she cut herself off, growling angrily. "You just need to shut up, Jack, because it doesn't look like you're doing much better. You're still hung over that New York girl, Kathy—"

"Katherine," Jack corrected, his voice hard and emotionless.

"—whatever," Jessie continued, "but, you're still in love with her and you're scared, you're freakin' scared! Scared that you gave up your one chance at love by coming out here to good ol' Santa Fe! And maybe you're right. Maybe you did. Jack Kelly, you wouldn't know love if it bit you on the nose," Jessie growled.

"Jess—" Crutchie timidly interrupted, but Jessie turned on him too.

"And you! You're no better! You say that it doesn't matter and that it's all going to be okay. You _said_ that no one would care what I did or didn't do and look around, Crutchie! They care! Jack won't leave me alone. JT won't. Syd, Clark, even you! Because this stupid society expects us all to find true love and what if that doesn't exist? What then, Crutchie?" she demanded, before pausing, as if she had just realized all that she had said. Jessie deflated, tiredly pushing her chair into the table. "What then? Well," she laughed bitterly, "life moves on. It never does stop moving. Not for nothing."

Jack quickly spoke up. "Jessie, I didn't mean—"

"Just shut up, Jack," Jessie snapped, stepping backwards. "I'm not even hungry anyways."

After she left the table, Jack glanced across the table to Crutchie, who seemed just as confused as he was. Jack turned to Claude, quickly noticing that the older man was watching him carefully. "I'm sorry," Jack apologized.

"I don't think I'm the one that needs to hear that."

Jack grimaced. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her tomorrow morning. She's going to still be too mad to talk to her now."

Claude nodded. "Okay, just make sure you do fix this, okay?"

"Okay. I promise."

* * *

 **HOLY CRAP. DID ANY OF YOU GUYS GET TO SEE NEWSIES LAST NIGHT? Man, I nearly died. And, slightly literally, because I had just donated blood earlier that day and I got really lightheaded during the movie and I kept thinking, "If I faint and miss Letter From the Refuge, I am going to die." But, I didn't. When I got there, I ended up sitting next to this family (the theater has assigned seating) and we got to talking and I discovered they were actually good friends with my cousins because they grew up in the same small town. Anyway, as we kept talking, I mentioned that I was double majoring in English and History and they, of course, asked me if I wanted to teach. I told them, no, my dream is to write or, at the very least, edit novels. To which the girl next to me suggests I start with Newsies fanfiction. I laughed somewhat nervously and it was slightly awkward, but here I am, writing Newsies fanfiction. So, if anyone wants to talk about that movie, I am very much up for it.**

 **Also, reviews and constructive criticism for this chapter are always appreciated. I love knowing what you guys think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Friday everyone! It's finally the weekend, thank goodness. And, man, I'm so happy right now. We're getting all these new fanfictions and the fandom has just been completely revitalized. That's fantastic!**

 **And to Steph: This is in response to both your reviews. First off, thank you so much! I'm so glad you like both the musical and this series! And, everything will be explained.**

 **To the rest of my ostriches: Read on!**

* * *

Crutchie pulled Dustin to a stop, frowning at the break in the fence that kept the sheep pastured. The needed to really do something to prevent whoever was stealing their sheep, Crutchie just had no idea what that something would be. Short of posting someone on a watch all night, nothing the Holloways were doing seemed to be achieving anything. Sheep continued to go missing. Crutchie jumped lightly from Dustin, pulling the horse along by its reigns. He tied Dustin to part of the unbroken fence, before crouching in front of the shattered wood, trying to figure out what was happening, searching for a clue.

As he crouched there, Crutchie felt a distinct change in the atmosphere. It was as if the sun slid behind a cloud and the air turned icy. Chest clutching uncomfortably, Crutchie turned around, glancing behind him. He felt as if he were being watched, studied from across the field, but that didn't make any sense because—

There, across the way, a dark rider approached. Crutchie squinted, trying to determine who was riding toward him. He couldn't manage to make out any of the distinguishing features beyond dark, vicious eyes that struck some awful chord of familiarity. Yet, Crutchie was unable to place where he knew those eyes from.

However, as soon as the rider neared him, Crutchie instantly recognized the cruel eyes, the wispy black moustache, the firm jawline. Gabriel Valdez. Fear gripping his heart, Crutchie backed up, bumping into the fence behind him. Gabriel shouldn't be here. He was in jail. He was supposed to be in jail for the rest of their lives. Not here, not ever.

"Hey, crip," Gabriel growled, his voice stony, "long time, no see."

"P-please leave," Crutchie begged, hating how his voice trembled. He wasn't the frightened sixteen year old from all those years ago. He was older, wiser, stronger. Yet, everything he had learned these past four years slipped away, trickled into fear.

"We left things unfinished, all those years ago," Gabriel threatened, pulling a gleaming pistol out.

Crutchie's hand immediately fell to his hip, where he kept his new pistol. His fingers scrabbled through the air, before Crutchie glanced down. He didn't have his pistol. Crutchie must have left it at home, though he could have sworn that he would never leave the house without the familiar weapon by his side. Instead, Crutchie gripped his crutch, hoping against all odds that he could manage to fight back in some way and knock Gabriel unconscious. He had been so lucky last time; Crutchie prayed that that luck had not left him. Just as Crutchie took a step forward, the gun went off and the bullet pierced Crutchie's right shoulder. He jerked backwards, the sudden pain nearly throwing him off of his feet. Crutchie stumbled forwards, his left hand pressing against the wound, trying to stem the blood that trickled from the bullet hole.

Gabriel stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He shoved Crutchie to his knees, his unrelenting fingers digging into the bullet wound. Crutchie gasped at the pain, attempting to squirm out of reach, but Gabriel would not let go. The gun was pulled up to press against Crutchie's head and he tried to move away from the barrel, but was held into place by the homicidal man. "Finally, we can finish this," Gabriel whispered. Crutchie squeezed his eyes shut, realizing that his luck had run dry; there was no escape from this fate.

Crutchie could feel Gabriel's finger on the trigger tightening, could feel his seconds slipping away. He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself for his imminent death. By the time the Holloways realized he hadn't returned, Gabriel would be long gone. They would search the ranch that night, lanterns shining into the inky darkness. Someone would stumble upon his cold, bloody body, perhaps see Dustin and find Crutchie, dead, beside the horse. Crutchie just hoped it wasn't Jack or Jessie. Neither of them deserved that. He could see Jack's face when he found Crutchie's death-stilled body. No he wouldn't picture that. Not now. He wouldn't think about how Jack would fall to his knees, grabbing at Crutchie's limp arm, shaking senseless shoulders, how he would cling to every last shred of hope until he was pulled away by a stone-faced JT. He wouldn't imagine how Jessie would stop, stare at the sightless eyes that gazed up into the clouded sky, how she would back up, turn, and run, unable to deal with the death.

No, Crutchie couldn't think about any of that. He had only seconds left and Crutchie wanted to focus on the happiness he had felt in life. Except, nothing was coming to mind. He could only remember the pain from the Refuge, the pain right now. It was all just pain and Crutchie couldn't stop it, couldn't stop anything. The trigger tightened and the bullet banged out.

Crutchie jerked forward, his eyes widening at the sudden indescribable pain, gasping. Everything was dark, beyond the thin streaks of light that fingered their way around Crutchie. Wait. Crutchie took deep, quivering breaths, his eyes darting to his surroundings. Wait. He wasn't… dead? No, Crutchie realized, trying to calm his frayed nerves. It had been a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Gabriel wasn't here. Gabriel wasn't even out of jail. Crutchie was safe. Despite all the repeated reassurances, Crutchie still couldn't brush away the tendrils of fear that clung to him. "Come on, Crutch," he muttered to himself, "get a grip on yourself. You. Are. Fine."

Recognizing that he would not be able to fall asleep again, Crutchie pulled himself out of his bed, glancing at JT's sleeping form across the room. Good, the younger man was still asleep. He was constantly afraid that his nightmares would wake the other man, but, thus far, it didn't appear as if anything like that had happened. JT snored, shifting slightly, his face turning away from Crutchie. After watching the other boy for a moment to ensure that he was truly asleep, Crutchie pulled a fresh shirt on, running his hand through his hair. He double and triple checked that his trusty pistol was in its holster by his side. Just in case. It wasn't real, but just in case.

Quietly, Crutchie exited the room, shutting the door behind him to not wake JT. Crutchie glanced down the hallway, noticing that all the other doors were closed. Good, he hadn't accidentally awoken anyone else. Crutchie made his way to the dining room, where he figured he could sit for a while and just not think about his nightmare. Then, when someone came in, Crutchie would smile and laugh and say he had just barely woken up. He'd be extra exuberant, just to hide the dark circles that Crutchie knew were beginning to make themselves known. And, it would work. Crutchie knew it would; it always did.

No one expected happy-go-lucky Crutchie to be struggling to hold himself together.

Crutchie slumped into the nearest chair, his hand covering his face. He took a couple deep breaths, his mind flashing unwillingly to the gun Gabriel had pressed to his head, to the sharp, throbbing pain in his shoulder. He was fine. He. Was. Fine. Crutchie could handle this, had always managed to handle it before. Today would be nothing new. Just grin and bear it. Assuage all worries with smiles. Crutchie could do it, wore his smile like a shield and could fool them all. Just, not now. Not now when he felt so overwhelmingly weary.

"Oh, hey. I thought I was the first one up," Jack commented, entering the room.

With practiced speed, Crutchie shot up and beamed at Jack. "Nope. Beat you to it."

"What are you doing up so early?" Jack asked, snagging a spot on the bench across from Crutchie.

Crutchie shrugged. "Just thinking, I suppose. Waiting for everyone else to get up."

Jack watched Crutchie suspiciously. "Is that it? No other reason to why you woke up?"

With a soft laugh, Crutchie clarified, "Well, yes, but I was just going to be kind. JT was snoring so loudly; he woke me up. And then, I couldn't manage to fall back asleep with that horrific racket, so I just got up."

"That does not surprise me," Jack commented, grinning softly. "You're really okay?"

"I'm really okay," Crutchie confirmed.

"Good. Just making sure."

"You don't hafta worry about me all the time," Crutchie muttered. Which was both a truth and a lie. Crutchie had never liked being under the close scrutiny and protective wing that Jack was quick to provide. And, yet… And, yet, some small part of him wanted Jack to notice that he was still having nightmares, that he was crumbling and didn't think he could pull himself together all on his own.

Jack snorted. "Don't I know it. Put me out of a good job," Jack jokingly complained and, with that, Crutchie knew that Jack wouldn't notice how much he hurt. No, Crutchie would have to tell the older man and Crutchie knew that he would never be able to do that. Not with his stubborn pride that squelched that idea before it could come to fruition.

Crutchie smiled, though the motion felt weak to him. If it was less cheerful, Jack didn't notice and, instead, began telling Crutchie some story about the time he had managed to get lost in Santa Fe and nearly ended up in Arizona—or so he claimed. Crutchie wasn't entirely listening, but he kept a soft smile pasted on his face and nodded and laughed at all the right parts, all while struggling to shove away dark eyes and cruel sneers and bullets.

* * *

Crutchie was sorely tempted to eat his lunch anywhere other than the tree in the far northeastern corner of the ranch. He could just as easily stop Dustin and eat right where he was, and then just return to ranching. It would be so easy. And, most importantly, it would mean he wouldn't have to face Jessie. While Crutchie had managed to hide his distress from Jack, he wasn't entirely sure that he could pull the wool over Jessie's eyes. The girl was just too damn perceptive. Not that Jack wasn't perceptive. It was just a different sort of perception. Jack had known Crutchie for nearly as long as Crutchie could remember, which meant that Jack could tell when Crutchie acted differently. Jessie, on the other hand, did not have the benefit of that knowledge that allowed Jack to compare and contrast actions. Instead, Jessie was just excellent at reading the subtext of every word that left Crutchie's mouth. And, while sometimes it was refreshing to have someone that understood him so well, Crutchie knew that her perceptiveness would most likely be a problem today. It would be so easy to just eat here.

But, no, Crutchie could not do that. It wouldn't be fair to Jessie. She would probably jump to some incorrect conclusion that he was upset at her and he wasn't. He just… didn't want to deal with anyone right now. With a sigh, Crutchie guided Dustin to the familiar tree that he would meet Jessie at.

Jessie was already there, sandwich untouched and in her hands. She was staring at the ground, but looked up and smiled when Crutchie approached. Crutchie smiled, banishing any nerves. He could fake this. It was fine. "Hey, Jessie," he said, taking his familiar seat beside her. If she was going to notice the shaky corner of his smile, it would happen any moment now.

Instead, Jessie seemed to be distracted, turning from Crutchie and focusing once more at the ground. "It seems like a nice day…" she said softly.

Crutchie glanced at her in surprise. "Are you okay, Jessie? You're acting a little weird."

Jessie turned back to him and smiled, though Crutchie thought the motion seemed false. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"'Bout what?" Crutchie asked.

"Oh, just everything," Jessie brushed the question off. "Anyway," she continued, changing the subject, "are you okay? You look tired."

Crutchie chuckled. Trust Jessie to still manage to read him that well, despite her personal distractions. "I'm fine, really. JT was snoring last night. It's hard to sleep when there's a steam engine in the same room as you," he explained jokingly.

Jessie nodded, which took Crutchie by surprise. She didn't usually accept his excuses at face value. Something must truly be bothering her. "Um, Jessie?" Crutchie continued, "Are you _sure_ you're okay? Is it something I did?"

"Look, Crutchie…" Jessie began, before trailing off and glancing up at the branches of the tree that shook softly in the breeze. She hesitated, before asking, "Have you ever wanted to go back to New York?"

"Well, about four years ago, I did," Crutchie laughed. "But, no, I don't think I do anymore. It's… New York isn't my home anymore. Jack had been right, though I hate to admit it. I belong in Santa Fe. With you guys. Your family… Jessie, this is really the only true family I've had. I mean, I had the newsboys, but I guess I didn't have parents like I now have Claude and Sue. So, no. No, I could never go back. There just isn't anything there for me."

"Hm," Jessie hummed and Crutchie suspected that she hadn't even really been listening to him.

Continuing, Crutchie spoke up again, "It's not just Claude and Sue. It's Clark and Mae-Anne and Wesley and Jed. It's Syd and Debby. It's JT and you. And, Jack, too, I suppose. But, what I'm getting at is that I finally have people that I can trust, that I can talk to no matter—"

Before Crutchie could finish, Jessie had leaned over and kissed him. He sat there, mouth agape in shock and surprise and wonder. Her lips moved against his, but Crutchie couldn't think of what he was supposed to do next. This wasn't anything he had ever experienced, or even really imagined experiencing. Jack would know what to do. Crutchie desperately wanted to stop time for a couple minutes so he could go ask Jack for advice; Jack had kissed more girls than Crutchie could number—and probably more than Jack could count—and would know what Crutchie should do. But, for the moment, Crutchie was at a loss of thoughts and words and, honestly, all brain power. He should do something. Crutchie knew that he should do _something_ , but all too quickly, Jessie was moving away, her green eyes wide. "W-what—?" was all Crutchie managed to stutter, the noise semi-unintelligible.

Jessie's eyes immediately shuttered all emotion away and she backed up. "I'm sorry," she apologized, standing up and reaching for Paint. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, the words a soft mantra.

"Wait," Crutchie tried, shaking the immobilizing shock from his limbs. "Jessie, wait!"

Before Crutchie could grab his crutch and lever himself to his feet, Jessie was atop her horse and galloping across the ranch. Crutchie stared at her retreating form, his mind whirling. She had kissed him. _Jessie_ had kissed _him_. What was he supposed to do? What was he even supposed to think? Crutchie knew that he needed to fix this, but he had no idea how to go about doing that. Was he supposed to kiss her back? Did he even _want_ to kiss her back? Crutchie wanted desperately to talk to Jack about this, but he wasn't sure if he should. What would Jack think about Jessie? Was this even something he was allowed to tell Jack, or would that be betraying Jessie?

It was all too much of a mess and Crutchie had no clue how to go about untangling it all. Pressing the heel of his hand to his head, Crutchie collapsed back against the tree, groaning. He almost preferred just having to deal with nightmares: those were easier.

* * *

Crutchie gently dismounted from Dustin, pulling the horse into his stall. "Here," he said, brushing the horse down and adding some extra oats to his feed. A soft nicker from the entrance to the stables caught Crutchie's attention and he turned, noticing that Jessie was entering, with Paint in hand. She brushed past him, eyes stony, to put Paint away for the night. "Jessie," Crutchie tried. "We've got to talk about—"

"Look, Crutchie, it doesn't matter, okay? It was a mistake." With that, Jessie dumped some hay into the feed trough and left Crutchie alone with the two horses.

As soon as the red-headed Holloway girl had left, Crutchie turned back to his horse, rubbing the animal's neck. "At least you're easy to understand, eh, Dustin?" The horse snorted in response, leaning over the stall wall to bump its nose against Crutchie's head, nearly knocking his hat off in the process. "Yeah, I love you, too," Crutchie replied, grinning. Horses, he could do. Women, not so much.

With a sigh, Crutchie headed into the house for what would undoubtedly be the most awkward meal of his entire lifetime. Once inside, Crutchie took his normal seat on the edge of the bench. Jessie, he noticed, took the seat across from him, instead of beside him like usual. "Jess," he tried again, but she just scowled in his direction.

Jack came in and started to his normal seat, only to discover that Jessie had taken it. "Um, Jessie, you're sitting where I usually sit," he pointed out, glancing at Crutchie in confusion.

"So?" Jessie challenged. "Find a new seat."

"Okay," Jack responded, before taking Jessie's normal seat next to Crutchie. "Are you guys fighting?" Jack asked the pair.

"Everything is completely fine," Jessie bit out.

Jack snorted, turning to face Crutchie. "So, Crutch, what did _you_ do?"

"Nothing," Crutchie muttered. And that was the truth. He hadn't done anything wrong. _She_ had been the one to kiss him. She had been the one to run away and not even talk about what had just happened. Sure, Crutchie probably hadn't reacted the way that Jessie expected, but what was he supposed to do? He hadn't realized she had liked him, in that way. Honestly, what else could Jessie expect? If it had been Jack, he would have known how to react. That would have been easier. "Jack would have been better."

Crutchie didn't even realize he had said that part out loud, until Jack asked, "Better at what?" Crutchie's eyes widened and he glanced at Jessie, who was glaring at him. He hadn't meant to— But Jack continued, "Ranching? Ain't that the truth. Both you and Jessie can't hold a candle to me. …"

Jack continued to talk, but Crutchie tuned the older boy out. He turned back to Jessie, softly mouthing, _I'm sorry_. She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little bit, before mouthing something back. All Crutchie could pick out was _idiot_ , though Crutchie wasn't sure if she was talking about him or Jack. Smiling, he gestured to himself and then to Jack, shrugging his shoulders, as if to ask which one of them was the idiot. Jessie rolled her eyes again, smiling more. This time Crutchie was able to read her lips. _Both_. Crutchie snorted, shaking his head and pointing to Jack.

Before Jessie had the chance to respond, JT entered the dining room. "Oh, are we switching everything up?" he asked, interrupting Jack, who Crutchie realized with amusement, was still talking. "Great. I like Jessie better than Jack, anyhow." He took his seat next to Jessie, nudging her in the ribs. "Phillip's pining, by the way. He wanted to come over again tonight, but I told him you needed a little longer to think about it."

"Thank you," Jessie replied, gratefully. "I just… JT, it's _Phillip_. How can you possibly expect me to feel anything about that kid beyond impatience?"

JT shrugged. "I tried to tell him, but he is not the type to give up on anything. Once he wants something, he won't stop at anything. Which is why I'm somewhat happy that he likes you. It distracts him from fighting for the position of sheriff."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

"Hey, once I'm sheriff—"

"Once I have a ranch of my own—" Jack interrupted.

"Once you guys shut up," Jessie added in.

"Hey," Claude interrupted, entering the dining room. "Let's just have a nice, peaceful dinner," he suggested.

Crutchie glanced at Jessie, who pointedly did not make eye contact with him. Oh, this would be fun. Crutchie really just wished they could go back to the way things were before she had kissed him. She had _kissed_ him. Crutchie contemplated, trying to sort through the emotions that arose at this thought. He didn't exactly know how he was supposed to feel. Jack had explained what it was like to be in love, once after he had met some girl on the street that Crutchie couldn't remember the name of. He had said it was like flying and had spun around a light pole as he explained to Crutchie how weightless he felt. Crutchie didn't think he felt like flying, but at the same time, Jack had moved on from that girl ages ago and maybe that wasn't what love had felt like. Romeo had tried to tell Crutchie that it meant you couldn't take your eyes off of someone and you wanted to do stupid things to impress them. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn't feeling that about Jessie. He didn't have any idiotic urges and he didn't mind turning away from her. He just wanted to fix everything because Crutchie couldn't stand having Jessie mad at him, or their friendship ending like this.

"Are you going to grab some of the beef or no?" Jack asked, holding the plate in front of Crutchie, who blinked in surprise at the dish. He glanced up, surprised that everyone was already eating. He hadn't realized that grace had already been said and the meal had begun.

"Um, yeah," Crutchie said, reaching for some of the meat and putting it on his plate, before passing it on to Sue, who watched him carefully.

Maybe he could ask Sue or Claude what it was like when they fell in love. They had stayed together for… Crutchie had no idea how long. And they still seemed to be in love with each other and cared deeply for the other. But, no. There was no way Crutchie could ask them that, because then, Sue would want to know who he liked and Claude would probably shoot Crutchie if he explained that Jessie had kissed him. Or kick him out, at the very least. Silence would be best.

But, silence sucked.

Crutchie needed to talk to _someone_. He glanced at Jack, to his left. Jack was constantly reminding him that he could talk to him about anything, but he wasn't sure if Jessie was the type of topic that Jack would be expecting. Plus, Jessie might not want him to talk to Jack and he didn't want to do anything to hurt her even further.

He turned his eyes to Jessie and she glanced up, before looking quickly away. Maybe Crutchie could just take her words at face value and forget everything that had happened, like she had told him to do. Except, maybe she just said that and it wasn't what she really wanted. Crutchie knew that Jack would, sometimes, come home and gripe that Katherine would say one thing and then mean something else and he could never understand. Jessie might be like Katherine, in that way, where she wanted Crutchie to remember. What if he didn't want to remember, though? What if Crutchie just wanted to forget it all?

"Are you going to eat?" Jack asked, nudging Crutchie.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," Crutchie said, taking a bite of the beef and chewing methodically. All he knew was that it would take more than one meal to figure it all out. And he'd take all night, if necessary, to know exactly what he should do to fix everything between him and Jessie. Crutchie wouldn't stop until it was all back to normal.

* * *

 **So, yeah. That just happened. And, Steph, I really have considered all the social implications, which do weigh in on future chapters. Or, at least, I hope I've considered all the social implications, but if you have any suggestions, do give them!**

 **Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated!**

 **On a slightly unrelated topic, my first kiss was the most awkward thing that had every happened because I realized he was going to kiss me, but I hadn't ever kissed anyone. I had just watched Hitch a couple weeks before, so I kept thinking about that movie and its advice on kissing and then I started thinking about what lips were even supposed to feel like and what if it tasted weird and then I realized, with a jolt, that we had just gotten back from that Thai place and did my mouth still taste like Thai food? And then he was kissing me and it was so awkward because I had no idea what to do, so I pulled back and apologized, sorta freaking out. And he was cool with it. I mean, we continued dating for a while and everything. But, it was outside my dorm building at school and there was some girl who had been sitting out there the entire time, so she witnessed the whole awkward first kiss thing. It was soooo awkward. But, yeah, that's your story for this week!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, everyone! So, after six chapters, we finally get Jessie's point of view. Which is good. She has some 'splaining. to do. This chapter was originally going to be around Chapter Four and look at everything that has happened in between. In other words, I'm really bad at keeping my plot points intact and just toss in a bunch of extra chapters. Which are all important, I just didn't think we would be going over them earlier than this. And... you probably don't care all that much. So, read on, my ostriches.**

* * *

Jessie picked at the bread of her sandwich as she sat under the tree. This was where she and Crutchie always met up for lunch. She glanced up across the ranch, but her friend was nowhere in sight. Which, technically meant that she could just leave and wouldn't need to even face him today. Crutchie wouldn't know the difference. If he even showed up, Jessie could explain that she had been hung up on the other side of the ranch. Or that she had gone home to help her ma bake a pie. Or that her pa had sent her to the store to pick up… something. Not that Jessie was entirely sure that she wanted to lie to Crutchie. About anything.

And wasn't that the whole issue.

It hadn't been fast, by any means. And Jessie had certainly tried her hardest to bury the small sprouting of feelings that had niggled at her stomach whenever she looked at Crutchie. She smirked softly, recalling the first time it had happened. It had been almost two years after the whole Gabriel episode and she and Crutchie had grown quite close. They had been out, under this very tree, talking. Crutchie had been relating some tale from when he was out in New York and he had turned to face her and his face was dappled by the shadows of the leaves above them and his eyes had shone with laughter and excitement and his lips had stretched into an even wider smile and Jessie had known. She knew that she never wanted that smile to leave her life. That realization had scared her and Jessie had tried to avoid Crutchie for a week, before she realized that that solution hurt her just as much as it hurt him. Besides, she had reasoned that it was just a stupid crush and she would be over it within a month or so.

She still wasn't over it. If anything, it had gotten worse. Now, practically anything Crutchie did was endearing: his stupid laugh and his stupid grin and the stupid way that he actually seemed to care what Jessie did. And the worst part was, for a while, Jessie thought maybe, _maybe_ , he might have liked her back.

Until yesterday morning. He had sat there and told her he thought of her as his best friend. Which was great. Fantastic. Except, Jessie didn't want to _just_ be Crutchie's friend. She had hoped that maybe if she bided her time and just waited, he would grow to see her the way she saw him. But, no. It wasn't to be.

And, to make it worse, Crutchie kept comparing her to Jack.

Jessie buried her face in her hands, sighing deeply. This was the exact reason why Jessie had sworn men off after the awful Gabriel episode. Nothing like that ever worked out for her. Which was fine. Totally fine. Jessie didn't need that. She wasn't like those simpering girls she had gone to school with who would plait their perfect blonde hair and smile their perfect white smiles and blink their perfect long eyelashes. Jessie had never understood those girls and maybe that had been what had alienated her from her peers. Not that she had ever truly cared. Sure, there had been days that she had yearned for some sort of female companionship, but beyond that, Jessie just didn't feel the need to pucker her lips or giggle stupidly at some idiotic kid's comment.

Now she was becoming her worst fear: some love struck girl that didn't know how to act like a human around a freaking guy. "Ugh," Jessie groaned. "I'd almost rather he was back in New York." But, no, that wasn't true. She didn't know what she would do if Crutchie returned to the East. _Maybe follow him_ , some idiotic voice in her head suggested. "No, let's definitely not do that," Jessie immediately told herself, before snorting. "And, now I'm talking to myself. This sucks." Jessie recalled JT's words from a few nights previous: _See, here's the problem, Phillip_ , _I don't think Jessie is capable of love_. "Oh, if only you were right, JT," she muttered, staring at the ground.

The familiar sound of a horse's hooves pulled Jessie out of her thoughts and she glanced up at Crutchie, watching as he jumped off of his horse. He looked different, now that four years had passed. His shoulders had widened and his muscles thickened. His skin had tanned under the countless days of work under the sun, contrasting against his wide, white smile. That stupid, lopsided smile that Jessie couldn't help but— _Get a grip, Jessie_ , she silently commanded. "Hey, Jessie," he said, sitting by her, grinning widely.

How close was he? Were their elbows touching? Jessie was pretty sure their elbows were touching, but she couldn't look without risking him noticing the quick glance. Jessie fidgeted, wondering if she should scoot away a little bit. In order to keep from glancing at there probably-touching elbows, Jessie concentrated on the grass. It was… quite green. Nicely green. Yes, green, and not at all attractive like the man beside her and— Oh, wait. Crutchie was probably expecting her to say something. "It seems like a nice day…" Jessie started.

 _Really? That's what you come up with?_ Jessie's inner monologue instantly reared up, pointing out every flaw in the sentence. Why in the world had she said that? Why couldn't something normal like, "hey, Crutchie, how are you today?" come out. Instead she had to comment about the _freaking_ _weather_.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie noticed that Crutchie was surprised and the smile faded a little. Great. Now he would be suspicious. "Are you okay, Jessie? You're acting a little weird."

 _Yes, I'm acting a little weird; I'm in love with my best friend!_ Jessie wanted to scream and shout and probably cry, too. This all just sucked. And now he would be expecting some explanation to her stupid weather comment. Jessie turned to Crutchie and—oh, why were his eyes so brown? Had she ever even seen that particular shade of brown before?—smiled as realistically as she could manage. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately," she explained, hoping, praying that he would just accept the shoddy explanation. Jessie really wasn't interested in going into further examination on what exactly had been on her mind lately.

"'Bout what?" Crutchie asked.

 _Oh, like I'm going to tell you._ "Oh, just everything," Jessie answered before quickly changing the subject. "Anyway, are you okay? You look tired." As the words left her mouth, Jessie realized that they were true. There were the beginnings of dark circles under Crutchie's eyes and the brown orbs seemed a little more red-rimmed than normal. Maybe if she'd stop being _attracted_ to him, Jessie would be able to notice that he was hurting. What a fantastic friend she was.

Crutchie brushed the concern away, much to Jessie's annoyance. "I'm fine, really. JT was snoring last night. It's hard to sleep when there's a steam engine in the same room as you."

Jessie wanted to dig deeper, figure out exactly what was bothering the man beside her, but Jessie was worried that if she pried, he would return the favor and accidentally discover her feelings about him. Instead, she simply nodded, mentally taking note to confront Crutchie about his less-than-stellar sleeping habits later. There was silence after Jessie's nod and Jessie struggled to come up with something intelligible to say that did not include "I'm really tempted to kiss you."

"Um, Jessie?" Crutchie asked, pulling Jessie out of her thoughts. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?" he paused for a moment, before continuing, "Is it something I did?"

"Look, Crutchie…" Jessie began, because, _oh_ , she just wanted to tell him everything. She just wanted to turn to him and admit all the secrets she had kept hidden because it was just too damn hard to keep it all inside. But, if she did that, what would Crutchie say? What would he do? Jessie glanced up at the shivering branches above her head, wishing the tree held the answers to her questions. Crutchie would probably laugh at her, turn her away, run back to New York. "Have you ever wanted to go back to New York?" she quickly asked, grabbing on the idea that had stumbled into her mind as a possible avenue of safe conversation.

"Well, about four years ago, I did," Crutchie joked, laughing. His smile stretched back into existence, as he ducked his head. Jessie tried to smile, but the motion felt wrong, so she frowned instead. If Crutchie noticed, he made no comment, instead, continued speaking, "But, no, I don't think I do anymore. It's… New York isn't my home anymore. Jack had been right, though I hate to admit it. I belong in Santa Fe. With you guys. Your family… Jessie, this is really the only true family I've had. I mean, I had the newsboys, but I guess I didn't have parents like I now have Claude and Sue. So, no. No, I could never go back. There just isn't anything there for me."

"Hm," Jessie hummed, her mind whirling. He had said Santa Fe was his home. Maybe he didn't want to return because he didn't want to leave her. No, that was stupid. That wasn't true. He had just said… Jessie startled, realizing that she hadn't even really been listing to Crutchie and now he probably expected some sort of answer or response. What was she going to say?

Jessie was spared the embarrassment of admitting that she hadn't been listening as Crutchie continued to talk. "It's not just Claude and Sue," Crutchie explained. "It's Clark and Mae-Anne and Wesley and Jed. It's Syd and Debby. It's JT and you." _Me!_ Jessie wanted to scream, but Crutchie kept talking.

Tuning out his words, Jessie concentrated on what he had just said. He was staying because of her. Maybe she had been right all along. Maybe it was possible that he felt the same way about her. Jessie turned to look at him, trying to gauge how he felt. Crutchie's eyes were shining, but with what emotion? For once, Jessie wasn't sure how to read her friend. She couldn't tell if he liked her, or if she were simply misreading his actions because she wanted him to like her. As Crutchie spoke, Jessie found her eyes drawn to his lips and she really wanted to know what they felt like against hers. They kept moving, but no sound seemed to be coming from them and then, Jessie just couldn't help herself.

She kissed him.

And Crutchie didn't react. At all.

His smile was gone.

Jessie immediately backed up, realizing that she had overstepped her bounds by a mile. She should never have done that. Crutchie's eyes were wide, confused, and he stuttered, "W-what?"

Oh, she had truly messed up this time. There was no way to take it back, though Jessie desperately wanted to. He didn't like her, had never liked her. This was wrong. A mistake. And Jessie would never be able to live it down. "I'm sorry," Jessie whispered, backing up. She needed to get out of there. Now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." For, what else was there to say? Nothing else could ever explain.

As Jessie pulled herself onto Paint, Crutchie called out, "Wait! Jessie, wait!"

Like hell she would. He'd want to talk about it and he'd say something that was meant to be nice and comforting, but, in the end, only meant that he did not have any feelings for her. No, it would just be best if Jessie left.

She didn't look back, for fear that Crutchie would see the tears in her eyes.

* * *

Jessie seriously contemplated whether she truly had to go inside for dinner. Surely there was somewhere else she could go for the night, somewhere where she would not see Crutchie. Jessie didn't have many other friends, which had never bothered her up until this moment; she could really use the refuge of someone else's home. She was almost tempted to go over to Phillip's house for dinner, just to avoid talking to Crutchie. "Wow," Jessie remarked to herself, as she quickly banished that thought. "I'm more desperate than I thought."

Not that she could ever completely avoid Crutchie. The young man lived with her, for heaven's sake. It would probably be best if Jessie just got it over with tonight, rather than let the embarrassment and guilt stew for a day. Jessie dismounted from Paint and gently tugged her horse into the stable. As she entered the small building, she noticed Crutchie feeding Dustin. Great. Jessie refused to make eye contact with the young man, brushing past him instead. "Jessie," he tried, "We've got to talk about—"

 _No. No, we do not have to talk about that ever again._ "Look, Crutchie," Jessie interrupted, her voice hard, if only to keep the bitter emotions out of it, "it doesn't matter, okay? It was a mistake." Before Crutchie could respond and crush Jessie's battered heart even more, Jessie dumped some hay into Paint's trough and shoved past him. The sooner she got away and inside, the better she'd feel.

Except, Crutchie would be at dinner, too. And they always sat by each other. Jessie didn't look forward to sitting next to him and briefly entertained the notion that she could pretend she was sick and just go to bed. Her stomach growled and Jessie glanced down at the offending organ. Okay, so maybe she wouldn't go to bed. But, that didn't mean she was going to sit by Crutchie either.

Crutchie entered the house, his eyes immediately seeking out Jessie, but she ignored him. He sat down in his seat at the edge of the bench and Jessie quickly took the seat across from him. Crutchie seemed surprised, glancing at her before turning his attention to the plate before him, his brow furrowed. This would work. It would have to. Jessie would simply need to sit here for the rest of her life.

"Um, Jessie, you're sitting where I usually sit," Jack pointed out.

Jessie bit the inside of her cheek. She had forgotten about Jack. What if he forced her to move and sit next to Crutchie? Would she? "So?" she tried, hardening her voice into what she hoped sounded firm and immovable. "Find a new seat."

Jack stared at her a little bit, before turning back to Crutchie and sitting beside his friend. "Okay." He adjusted his seat, before leaning partially across the table. "Are you guys fighting?"

"Everything is completely fine," Jessie bit out. As if she would ever tell _Jack_ what she had done.

With a snort, Jack shifted his body so he was facing Crutchie. "So, Crutch, what did _you_ do?"

"Nothing," Crutchie muttered, his face twisting into an emotion that Jessie wasn't entirely sure she wanted to decipher. Yet, she found that she couldn't quite tear her eyes from him. Maybe… No, Crutchie would never— "Jack would have been better," Crutchie murmured.

Jessie wanted to reach across the table and throttle Crutchie. _Yes, let's just tell my whole freaking family what happened._ Jack asked, "Better at what?" Crutchie's eyes widened comically as he realized what he had said, but Jack didn't seem to understand the implications. Instead, Jack continued, "Ranching? Ain't that the truth. …"

He kept talking, but Jessie didn't have the heart to listen to him. She glanced down at her hands in her lap, twisting the skin on her palm uncomfortably. Jessie was pretty sure that she would welcome any sudden form of death at this moment. She glanced back up, surprised that Crutchie was staring at her. He quickly mouthed _I'm sorry_. Jessie rolled her eyes, fighting the smile that threatened to break through. _I'd hope so_ , she mouthed back _, you're the idiot_.

Crutchie blinked at her and Jessie realized that he probably hadn't been able to interpret a single word. Just one more awkward failure to add to the ever-lengthening list. Crutchie gestured to himself, before pointing at Jack and then shrugging. Jessie rolled her eyes once more. Okay. Maybe he had understood part of what she had said. This time, Jessie limited the amount of words she would be trying to have Crutchie interpret and settled for _both_. Crutchie snorted, shaking his head and gesturing to Jack.

JT entered the dining room, grinning when he noticed that Jack and Jessie had changed seats. "Oh, are we switching everything up? Great." He took his seat next to Jessie, elbowing her softly. "I like Jessie better than Jack anyhow." He turned to face her, explaining, "Phillip's pining, by the way. He wanted to come over again, tonight, but I told him you needed a little longer to think about it."

Jessie snorted. "Thank you. I just… JT, it's _Phillip_. How can you possibly expect me to feel anything about that kid beyond impatience?"

With a shrug, JT replied, "I tried to tell him, but he is not the type to give up on anything. Once he wants something, he won't stop at anything." JT paused, grinning. "Which is why I'm somewhat happy that he likes you. It distracts him from fighting for the position of sheriff."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "I'm glad I could be of assistance."

"Hey, once I'm sheriff—"

"Once I have a ranch of my own—" Jack quickly shot in.

"Once you guys shut up," Jessie muttered, rolling her eyes.

Claude interrupted with a quick, "Hey." He took his normal seat at the head of the table. "Let's just have a nice, peaceful dinner."

And they did, to an extent. Jessie refused to make eye contact or speak with Crutchie throughout the meal. She was pretty sure that her entire family noticed the awkward aura that extended between the two friends, but if they did, no one brought it up.

After the meal had ended, Crutchie quickly intercepted Jessie before she could escape to her room. "Hey, Jessie," he began, reaching out to grab her shoulder.

"Let's just forget everything that happened, okay?" Jessie suggested, brushing his hand off and hurrying to her room. Forget everything. That was the solution. Just forget everything that had ever happened and move one. Never look back, never remember. Jessie groaned as she collapsed onto her bed. If only that was as easy as she had made it sound.

* * *

 **So, now we know what Jessie thinks about it all, which is important. And, yeah, it's all the same events as last chapter, so next week we'll be able to resolve (ish) Jessie and Crutchie. That being said, I'm probably going to post the chapter on Thursday, since I'm going out of town Thursday afternoon and don't know if I'd get around to posting on Friday.**

 **Yeah, so reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. I love to see what you guys think or any suggestions you have for me to improve!**


	8. Chapter 8

**So, no, it is not Friday, but I'm going out of town later today for Spring Break and I know myself and I know that this chapter would not get posted tomorrow, so here it is. A day early. I'm assuming no one is upset about this?**

* * *

Crutchie eventually pulled himself out of bed, annoyed at the leaden weight of his limbs. He hadn't slept at all the night before. Which, Crutchie was forced to admit, did have a positive: no nightmares. He smiled a little at that, pulling on a fresh shirt and exiting the room. JT had already gotten up about half an hour earlier, but Crutchie had tried to sleep for only a couple minutes longer. No success, of course. He had merely laid there, eyes determinedly shut, willing himself to sleep. In futile.

Fighting a yawn, Crutchie stumbled into the dining room. JT glanced up at the movement and grinned a little. "Didn't sleep?" he teased.

"Couldn't," Crutchie explained, nearly collapsing into the nearest chair.

JT's eyes clouded with worry for a moment. "Bad dream?"

"No, just couldn't fall asleep," Crutchie said, telling the truth for once. "Perhaps it was your snoring that kept me up," Crutchie accused.

"I don't snore," JT sputtered.

"Take it from someone who has shared a room with you for the past four years: you snore."

JT rolled his eyes. "Well," he conceded, "even if I do snore, it can't be that bad."

Crutchie snorted, but made no move to respond. Instead, he settled for reaching across the table to snag a biscuit. He slowly chewed on the crumbly bread, trying to figure out what he would say to Jessie. Luckily, she hadn't shown up yet, but Crutchie knew that there was no way they could dance around each other forever. She hadn't wanted to talk the night before, which was understandable, but they needed to speak _some time_. Best to get it over with, Crutchie figured.

He had spent all night re-thinking the events of the day before, analyzing everything she had done and said, everything he had done and said, trying to sort through every emotion that seemed to flit across his mind when talking with Jessie. Crutchie had spent countless hours going over the events of his life here in Santa Fe, skimming memories that focused on Jessie just as much as they focused on him. So, she was there all the time. That meant nothing. Well, no, it meant a lot. But, everything? Did that mean everything?

Crutchie groaned. This really wasn't his area of expertise.

JT glanced up at the groan, before his eyes lit up in remembrance. "Hey!" he said excitedly, fishing into his back pocket, "I just remembered. You got a letter yesterday." He slid the crumpled letter across the table to Crutchie, who frowned at the pocket-smudged ink and the wrinkled address.

"Has this been in your pants for a whole day?"

"I got distracted," JT quickly defended. "Just be glad I remembered to give it to you at all."

Crutchie snorted, smiling at the name in the upper right hand corner. David Jacobs. After the events four years previous, Jack had penned a quick letter to Davey that had started with the simple phrase "we are still (surprisingly) alive" before detailing their adventure in Santa Fe. Davey had quickly written back, but Jack hadn't been as eager to be the pen pal that Davey hoped for.

Instead, Crutchie took the responsibility. He dutifully wrote Davey every other week with the events that had happened. Every once in a while, Jack would insert a paper with his thoughts, but that was quite infrequent. Davey kept Crutchie updated on all the newsboys in New York and Crutchie made sure Davey was updated on their life in Santa Fe.

"Gonna write another love letter to him?" JT teased.

"Oh, shut up, JT," Crutchie shot back. "You're just jealous that I have someone to write to."

Crutchie tore open the envelope, straightening the crumpled letter to read it.

 _Hey, Crutchie!_

 _I'm sorry about the loss of the sheep on the ranch. I was thinking about what you had said and how they were taken and it just sounds too neat. As if it were fake, somehow. I know you're not making it up or anything, but you said they were taken during the day, right? I'm not throwing blame around or anything like that, but doesn't that sound like something that would have to have been done on the inside? I wish I was there to see how the fence had been cut, so that I could draw a better conclusion on that. That's really interesting. I'll keep thinking about it. You do, too. Something's off about those missing sheep._

 _Anyway, everyone is doing fine here. Les is going to be thirteen in a couple weeks and he's pretty sure that that makes him a real man now. It is beyond annoying. Just the other day, he snagged Specs' glasses and sat at the table in the Brooklyn Lodging House and started commanding everyone around, staring over the lens of the glasses. It's still weird that most of the newsboys are off in Brooklyn. I know it's been over four years, but it still feels strange. Plus, it's a much longer walk over there, so Les and I aren't able to visit as much._

 _College is still going fine. Some of the classes I'm in are super interesting. You know how I told you that I'm taking that history class focusing on the European Enlightenment? We have to do a presentation on who we thought made the biggest difference on scientific advancements or philosophic advancements. Most of the students in the class are talking about Descartes or Rousseau or Isaac Newton. The regulars, you know? I've decided to present on Denis Diderot. He's the guy that compiled one of the first big encyclopedias and my thesis is, basically, that without Diderot's extraordinary efforts to create a comprehensive book on the knowledge that had already been gathered and then spread that information across the public, the Enlightenment would have been unable to progress to the extent it did. I don't know, I'm still working on it, but I don't think anyone else in the class is using Diderot, so that should be good. That probably doesn't interest you all that much, but that's what I'm working on currently._

 _I finally was able to land a second job out here! I'm working as a waiter at some French establishment off of Lafayette. It's nothing fancy, but it's nice to have some more income. In fact, now I have a bit more extra money to use with as I please. Lately, I've been meeting up with a girl. It started out just as a good time to discuss college and whatnot, but now… I don't know, Crutchie. You ever get the feeling that you've known someone your whole life, even if it's only been for a couple years? That probably doesn't make any sense, but that's the only way I can think to explain it. Anyway, nothing's going to come of it. I know that she doesn't see me that same way I see her, so it doesn't matter all that much._

 _Well, this letter is getting pretty long, so I should probably cut it off there. I hope Santa Fe is still treating you and Jack well. We all miss you two up here! If you're ever able to visit, there's always an extra bed or two at my place. Hell, Spot would probably even let you two stay for a while._

 _As always,_

 _David Jacobs_

"How're they doing?" JT asked, waiting until Crutchie folded the letter back up and stuck it into his pocket.

"It sounds like they're all doing just fine," Crutchie answered.

"You going to write back?"

"Probably tonight or tomorrow. Would you mind dropping the letter off at the post office for me?"

"Sure, just tell me when you need to."

Crutchie nodded, smiling. He was glad that he had been able to maintain his friendship with Davey. It seemed as if it had been an entire lifetime since Crutchie had been out selling papers, since they had started a strike against Pulitzer and the World. "Can you believe I've only been here for four years?" Crutchie asked JT.

"Sure doesn't seem like it," JT agreed. "I mean, I just can't really even imagine my family without you and Jack around. I'm pretty glad that pa nearly killed you with his horse."

Crutchie snorted. "Yes, small miracles."

"Hey, Crutch," Jack greeted, punching Crutchie lightly in the shoulder before sitting by him. "You look exhausted."

"Punching me really helped," Crutchie muttered sarcastically.

"Got to wake you up somehow."

"Davey wrote," Crutchie told Jack, changing the subject before Jack could ask _why_ Crutchie was exhausted.

Jack smiled. "Oh, yeah? He off getting a bigger head?"

"Yeah, he kept mentioning these names that I had never heard of. I don't even think I could pronounce them. They looked French or something."

"Well, good for him. Everyone else doing well?"

"From what Davey was saying, yeah."

Jack nodded. "When you write back, tell him I say 'hi' and that he had better not get too big a head. He won't be able to hold it up, shortly.

"I'll be sure to say that. Maybe I'll even add—" Crutchie fell silent when Jessie entered the room, her eyes immediately flicking to him, before darting away. "Um, maybe I'll add…" Crutchie struggled to remember exactly what he had been saying to Jack but every thought had fled his mind. He needed to talk to Jessie. Probably not right now, with JT and Jack overlooking. No, definitely not right now. "Maybe I'll add," Crutchie repeated for the third time, saying the first thing that came to his mind, "that he should come visit."

"Yeah, that would be nice," Jack agreed in confusion, "but what does that have to do with his big head?"

"So you can mock him in person," Crutchie explained, thinking on the fly.

Jack grinned sarcastically. "Good point. Invite him on over."

"I'll be sure to put it in the first paragraph," Crutchie agreed, trying to keep from staring at Jessie. What was he supposed to say to her? He had tried rehearsing a million and one different conversations the night before, but he still wasn't sure if any of that would work. Maybe he could just go visit Davey and pretend that none of this ever happened. Did he want to pretend none of it ever happened? Crutchie missed the days when his life was simple and all he had to worry about was where his next meal would come from and not what to do if a girl liked him.

Jessie quickly grabbed one of the biscuits before making her way to the door, probably intent on escaping Crutchie's gaze. "Hey, Jessie, wait!" Crutchie called out, cutting Jack off before he could make some other joke about Davey's abnormally large brain. "Can we talk during lunch today?"

Jessie's eyes flickered with something that Crutchie couldn't interpret, before she smiled sarcastically. "I'll see if I can pencil you in." Jessie left the room, the door banging loudly behind her.

"Oh, you really screwed up this time," Jack remarked. "I don't even know what you did, but I can tell, Crutchie, that you really made her mad."

"She'll get over it," JT said. "She always does."

Crutchie frowned. "I sure hope so." This wasn't like the normal fights Jessie would get in with her brothers and Jack and Crutchie. This was so much more than that. It spoke of love and emotions that Crutchie didn't know he should reciprocate, let alone if he even _could_. The whole situation was beyond complicated and Crutchie didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do.

That didn't mean he wouldn't stop at nothing to fix the rift between him and Jessie.

* * *

"You're not doing a very good job at avoiding me," Crutchie commented lightly as he sat down beside Jessie. He had found her under the tree that they usually sat under for lunch. Originally, Crutchie had planned to scour the entire ranch until he found Jessie, but he had figured that he might as well check their normal lunch place first. And Crutchie was now glad that he had elected to do that; it certainly saved him a fruitless search.

Jessie snorted. "Who said I was avoiding you?"

"I just thought that, after everything, you didn't—"

"Look, Crutchie, I was serious about last night. Let's just forget this entire thing happened, okay? I made a mistake. I don't want to fight with you; I just want to move on."

Crutchie frowned. "Well, there went the speech I practiced last night."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, I was going to try and convince you how important it was for us to make out." Crutchie paused, his eyes widening in realization. "Make _up_. Make up. Like, not fight." Crutchie buried his face in his hands, groaning.

Jessie chuckled. "Guess you didn't practice enough," she pointed out.

"Oh, shut up," Crutchie muttered, finally glancing back up at her. His cheeks were bright and his ears burned familiarly. "Jessie, I stayed up all last night trying to figure everything out. I—Yesterday, I just didn't know what to do, what to say. It caught me off guard. You say you aren't used to people being friends with you, but I have no clue what to do when someone has actual _feelings_ for me." He paused. "I still don't know what I'm supposed to do. Jessie, I don't even know what love is." Crutchie laughed bitterly, continuing, "I haven't exactly had many opportunities to figure it out for myself. So… I don't know what I'm supposed to do, in moments like this." He paused, glancing at Jessie, before turning back to his hands, which he began twisting uncomfortably. "That's why you should've just kissed Jack," he muttered.

Jessie's face twisted, but Crutchie looked away quickly. He didn't want to interpret the expression. "Why do you say that?"

Crutchie shrugged. "He knows what to do. Not me. I… I don't even know if I can…"

"If you'd stop comparing yourself to Jack, you'd probably discover that you're fine just the way you are."

"Yeah, maybe for me," Crutchie quickly shot back, "but, for someone else?" He sighed loudly. "I just don't know what to do, what to say in situations like this." Crutchie fell quiet.

As the silence stretched on, Jessie softly asked, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Something, I guess. I just… Do you remember the first thing you said about me and Jack when Claude was deciding whether to keep Jack on as a ranch hand?" Jessie shook her head, so Crutchie continued, "You said we were just two extra mouths to feed, two kids from New York who didn't know anything about ranches." He snorted. "You hated us."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I kept thinking about that last night. We started out with nothing; Jack and I didn't know _anything_. You were right, Jessie. But, we were able to change: Jack, you, and I. Jack and I work on the ranch. You don't hate us anymore. And it got me thinking that, maybe, I could be able to change, too."

Jessie frowned at him. "Change in what way? I have no idea what you're getting at."

"My whole life, I… I didn't have a great start in life. After my father died—my mother wasn't very kind. She hated that I was crippled and she hated that I… Never mind. That's beside the point. But, I think that really messed up how I looked at relationships. She had fought with my father. They fought a lot. That's what I remember most, before… Just shouting and sometimes they'd throw things and my mother would sometimes leave and wouldn't come back for a couple days. It always scared me, all of it. I didn't understand it; I was four, maybe five. I didn't _know_. All I knew was that I couldn't trust anyone but myself.

"And then, afterwards," Crutchie continued, "after I found the newsies and Jack took me in, showed me the ropes, I finally started to trust again. It was hard and so scary. Jack… I wanted to trust him for the longest time, but I couldn't bear to bring myself to do that, to be so vulnerable to someone. I just couldn't. It took," he breathed out loudly through his nose, "it took years before I actually trusted Jack enough to tell him when my leg had gotten bad. It was hard, it hurt, letting him see past all my carefully constructed defenses. Letting him see that I was in pain. But he never betrayed that trust, not for a long time. I felt as if I finally understood what it was like to have a family. Jack was my brother. And I was his. We were just two brothers, trying to brave the streets of New York together.

"That was great and all and it was important. But, then, Jack started dating girls and I just… didn't. I couldn't bring myself to trust anyone but Jack and the newsboys. What would happen if I put myself out there, showed any emotion beyond the cheerful mask I wore like a shield? I was terrified I'd be hurt. I saw what Jack was like after a girl left him, once, and I didn't want that to happen to me. I'm not like Jack; I didn't think I could bounce back. I was worried I would break and there would be no one to help put me back together."

Crutchie glanced at Jessie, before looking quickly away. "It happened to Jack, you know. With Katherine. That really hurt him. I tried to help him, but I don't think I was ever enough. I knew it, but I didn't want to believe it. He needed more than me, he needed distance. He needed Santa Fe. So, we came. I couldn't… I couldn't _not_ go with Jack. He was all I had. He was all I trusted. We came and we met you guys and…" Crutchie snorted. "Everything happened. You know, the scarlet fever and New York and Gabriel.

"So, that was what I was thinking about last night, going through all of those events, up until yesterday, when… I kept thinking how every time I thought of what had happened here, especially since Gabriel, I never felt as if I were alone. It wasn't just Jack and your family; Jessie, it was you. You were always there. And, so, last night, I couldn't help but think that if you were able to change, maybe I could be able to change and maybe I want to try and change."

"I don't think I understand," Jessie said slowly, her voice quiet.

"I don't think I understand, either, but I'm going to try. Jessie, I want… I want to try. And maybe this will fall apart spectacularly and maybe it will hurt more than anything I've ever felt, but maybe it would be worth it. Just to try. Just to change."

Jessie stared at Crutchie and he could see the faint hope sparking her eyes even greener than usual. "So, what you're saying is…?"

"This," Crutchie whispered.

This time, Crutchie was the one to make the first move. This time, Crutchie had some sort of idea what to do.

And this time, it started to feel right.

* * *

 **Well, there we are. They kissed. So, tell me what you think about this chapter, about their relationship, about what you think will happen in the future? I just love to hear what you guys think.**

 **In unrelated news, a couple nights ago, I had a dream that I was running through a mall, so all these security guards were trying to arrest me and it took five of them to stop me for some reason. Anyway, I turned to the left and Mike Faist was there and I immediately asked, "Oh, I know this isn't a good time, but can I get your autograph?" And he said, yes, but not until after they arrested me, which was acceptable. It was a very weird dream.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Friday! Thank you to everyone that's reading this story. Your support means a ton to me! Anyway, I don't really have anything to say today.**

* * *

Jack glanced up from his interlocked fingers as Jessie entered the dining room. He had no clue how long he had been sitting there, waiting, but, finally, Jessie had gotten up. "Jessie," Jack said, getting to his feet. When she didn't respond immediately, simply stared at him, Jack scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. The sound grated in the silence and Jack quickly stopped.

"Yeah?" Jessie asked, watching Jack with undisguised confusion. "Were you… waiting for me?"

"Yeah, we've got to talk."

"Um, okay, but how long have you been up? I thought _I_ was getting up early."

Jack brushed the question away with a wave of his hand. "Look, Jessie, I'm sorry."

"About?"

"About what I said a coupl'a days ago. You know…" Jack trailed off, not exactly wanting to repeat his words to her. He had tried to apologize to Jessie the morning afterwards, but she had brushed him off with a harsh glare. Then, she had been mad at Crutchie and refused to sit with him, but now they were back to being good friends again, so Jack figured now was as good a time as any to apologize.

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it, Jack. I over-reacted." She laughed somewhat. "I was stressed out, but I'm fine now."

"You talk through it with Crutchie?" Jack asked.

Jessie's eyes shot up to Jack's observing him suspiciously. Her eyes studied him carefully and Jack squirmed under the inspection. Eventually, she replied, "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

Jack didn't understand the suspicion, but figured it was wiser to ignore it rather than call her out on it. He snorted, instead. "Crutchie's good at that. He was the one I'd always go to after everything, just to talk. I think it's 'cuz he's a good listener," Jack remarked, grinning fondly. "Don't know where I'd be without the kid."

"Yeah," Jessie agreed softly. "Neither do I."

There was something in her voice that made Jack pause for a moment. Something familiar in her tone, something that he recognized, but he couldn't place the familiarity for the life of him. He started to probe a bit further into his memories, but was cut off.

A well-known soft clicking preluded Crutchie's entrance and both Jack and Jessie looked up at their friend's entrance. Crutchie glanced at the pair in surprise. "Oh, am I… interrupting anything?"

"No," Jessie said, grinning as Crutchie sat next to her. She poked at his sleep-ruffled hair. "I see you actually took the time to sleep last night."

Crutchie smiled. "Yeah, I didn't think it would be too wise to go two nights without any sleep. Knowing me, I'd fall asleep while riding and manage to break my wrist again." He extended his left wrist, twisting it back and forth, as if to ensure that it was still in working condition. Jessie laughed, but Jack ignored them.

Instead, Jack latched on Jessie's teasing words, leaning across the table. "You didn't sleep last night?"

"No, I didn't sleep the night before. Keep up, Jack," Crutchie teased.

Shaking away the joke, Jack pressed, "Why didn't you sleep? You still getting nightmares?"

If Jack hadn't been watching Crutchie's face carefully, he would've completely missed the way the younger man's features stiffened, paling ever-so-slightly, before relaxing into an easy grin. He would've missed the way Crutchie's eyes widened while simultaneously crinkling in memory in the corners, or the way Crutchie's eyebrows briefly drew together, lines creasing his forehead. "I'm fine, Jack."

"That isn't exactly an answer to my question."

"No, I did not have a single nightmare the night before. Honest promise." To further prove his statement, Crutchie dragged his finger back and forth across his chest. "Cross my heart, hope to die."

Jack stiffened at the phrase that had just started to gain popularity back in New York, knowing just how often Crutchie had nearly died in his short twenty years. There was the first time Jack had met Crutchie, the Refuge, nearly everything that had happened in Santa Fe four years previous. Crutchie must have noticed the pain and regret that flashed across Jack's face, because he quickly amended. "I promise, Jack. No nightmares. I'm doing fine."

"You'd come to me if you weren't?" Jack demanded. Crutchie wasn't telling him everything and he knew it. Jack had known Crutchie for a long enough to tell when the younger man was keeping truths away from him, but he just didn't understand why Crutchie wouldn't talk to him. "You know that you can always come to me about anything."

Crutchie smiled, shrugging Jack's concern off. "Of course, Jack. I know. Anyways, I always have Jessie I can talk to, too. But, really, nothing's going on."

Jessie seemed to stiffen at that comment, but Jack couldn't make heads or tails of the action. All he could conclude was that Crutchie and Jessie weren't telling the full truth about… something. "You sure you two are okay? You're acting a little weird," Jack pointed out, suspicion pulling his eyebrows together.

"I'm fine. We're both fine. Don't worry about it, Jack," Crutchie reassured Jack, before quickly changing the topic. "So, Jack, aren't you heading into town today?"

Jack was slightly miffed by the sudden diversion of topic, but decided that he would let it go, for now. Later tonight, when Jessie wasn't around to listen, Jack would pry until Crutchie finally admitted what in the world was going on. Pry kindly and with the best intentions, but pry, nonetheless. "Yeah, I am. Claude's having me get some supplies."

"Great," Crutchie said, sliding an envelope across the table to Jack. "Can you drop this off at the post office?"

"You tell Davey he has a big head?" Jack joked, pocketing the letter.

"I said that _you_ said he has a big head. I make no claim to that statement."

"He'd know it was from me anyway," Jack remarked, grinning. "I'm the only honest one of the pair of us."

Crutchie rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Jack." He glanced at Jessie briefly, before standing up. "Well, I think I'm going to go get started out there. I'll see you at lunch?" he asked Jessie. Jack detected a note of nervousness in the question. Which made no sense. It sure looked as if they had made up and stopped fighting, so maybe Crutchie was just treading carefully around his friend? Jack wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to stop until he had figured it out.

She nodded, before standing as well. "I mean, I've got no one else to eat with."

"Oh, come on," Jack complained. "What am I?"

"You'll be in town," Jessie was quick to point out. She then grinned sarcastically at Jack. "Besides, maybe I enjoy Crutchie's company more. He isn't as arrogant, idiotic, and—"

"Ruggedly handsome?" Jack shot in.

Jessie reached across the table to pat Jack's hand sweetly. "You keep telling yourself that." Crutchie snorted behind his fist, his brown eyes bright with mirth. Jessie turned to him. "Come on, Crutch. I don't have all day to wait for Jack to come up with some sort of comeback."

"Okay," Jack started, indignantly, but Crutchie and Jessie were already leaving the house, both already deep in conversation. The closeness between the pair of friends still surprised Jack. Somehow, he must've blinked, and he felt almost replaced. Crutchie talked to Jessie; she was the one he had confided to that he hadn't slept the night before. Jack was no longer the first person that Crutchie would turn to if he needed help. Crutchie's words from earlier echoed in his mind: _Anyways, I always have Jessie I can talk to, too._ It wasn't as if Jack didn't understand that Crutchie was older now, that they would not be as close as they had been back in New York, when struggling to survive had been the status quo and there hadn't been time for much beyond the pair of them. He got it, he did. But, that didn't lessen the sting. They were brothers, damn it, and Jack had to wonder if he was even that to Crutchie anymore. The day before he had joked that Crutchie no longer needed him, but how much of that was a joke and how much was the truth?

"Okay," Jack repeated, softer now. Jessie and Crutchie were long gone now, couldn't hear him anyway. "You two have fun. I'll just be… here."

Jack pulled the envelope out of his pocket, studying its creases and wrinkles. Crutchie would update him on the newsboys' lives back in New York and it sounded as if everyone was growing up, moving on. Where did that leave Jack, though? After his exodus from New York, all Jack had had from his past life was Crutchie. And if he didn't have Crutchie, he had no one. Sure, there were the rest of the Holloways, but Crutchie still came first. Would always come first. And Jack had, foolishly, assumed that Crutchie felt the same way about him. Except, now, the younger man would turn to Jessie, his new best friend.

Pressing his lips together, Jack shoved the envelope back into his pocket. He stood up, his eyes hard. It would be fine. He was always fine. Nothing that had happened thus far had ever been so destructive, so crushing that Jack couldn't pull himself back to his feet. New York had taken everything Jack had cared for, but it was Santa Fe that dealt the killing blow. No, more than that. It was Jessie Holloway.

"You okay?" a soft voice asked from the doorway and Jack turned towards the voice, his head swimming with the vertigo of the sudden movement.

"I'm fine, Sue," Jack muttered, situating his Stetson on his head. He should start heading to town, so that he'd be able to finish all his chores in a timely manner. So that he wouldn't have to think about Crutchie and Jessie—stupid, idiotic Jessie that Crutchie preferred to Jack—anymore.

"I may be getting older, but I sure as hell am not getting any stupider," Sue countered, crossing her arms against her chest. "Talk to me."

"You wouldn't understand."

Sue raised an eyebrow at that. "Try me."

"I just…" Jack trailed off. Was he really going to just tell Sue everything? No, he couldn't do that. Whenever Jack needed to talk to someone, he turned to Crutchie. But, now, Crutchie was the problem. And Sue was still waiting. "Have you ever felt as if no one needed you? Like you were just… extraneous?"

"I think everyone has," Sue remarked gently. "What brought this up?"

Jack half-shrugged, shaking his head. "For nearly as long as I can remember—for as long as it's counted—it's just been me and Crutchie. We had each other and that was, really, all. I mean, you saw what it was like when we first got out here. But, he's changed. Now, whenever he needs help, he'll turn to Jessie. I just— Sometimes, I just think that Crutchie doesn't, I don't know, need me anymore. As if, he wouldn't need me to be around, anymore."

Sue smiled gently, crossing the distance between her and Jack. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Now, Jack, you know that isn't true. You know that you and Crutchie both need each other. And, yes, it isn't the same as when you first came out West because you have us now. The pair of you has a family and I don't want you to ever forget that. However, that doesn't diminish the fact that you two are brothers. Not in any way. If you're really bothered about it, talk to him," she advised.

"Yeah, okay," Jack agreed, although he wasn't sure if he was simply saying that to appease Sue, of if he actually would try talking to Crutchie about their friendship.

Perhaps Sue could recognize the hesitation in Jack's voice because she pulled the young man into a tight hug. "Don't ever forget that you have a family," she whispered. "And if you ever need someone to talk to, you can _always_ come to me. I'm not Crutchie, but I have been told I'm an excellent listener."

Jack smiled. "Thanks, Sue. But, I do really need to get going into town."

"Be safe, okay?"

"I will," Jack promised.

With that, he left the house, heading to the stables and trying to ignore Sue's soft gaze on him. He did appreciate that he had a family, had never thought he would have a conventional one except in his wildest dreams. Without Crutchie, though, Jack didn't know what he would do. Maybe he would try to talk to him that night, after he figured out what was bugging the younger man. Maybe.

* * *

Jack leaped from Plunky, looping the horse's reins around the post and heading into the post office. He would send the letter off quickly, before moving on with the rest of his chores. Jack knew that if he didn't post the letter first, he would forget and then Crutchie would be upset and that really wouldn't help bridge the rift between the pair.

The post man, a large, pot-bellied German by the name of Gutman with dirty blonde hair, looked up at Jack's entrance. "Ah, Kelly. Welcome back. It's been a while," he greeted, his grin causing his moustache to bounce and shift as if with its own volition. "A couple of months, since you've shown your mug in here. It's generally that red-headed kid. How're the Holloways doing? I heard Syd got himself hitched to the Pullman girl, right? How's that going? You find yourself a lady-friend yet?"

Jack laughed. "Slow down, Gutman. I can only answer one question at a time. Everyone's great, yes, Syd is married and is pretty pleased with himself, no, I do not have a lady-friend, as you put it."

Gutman clicked his tongue. "The butcher, Harold, he has a daughter that is about your age."

"She's fifteen," Jack quickly pointed out. "I appreciate that you think I'm still that young, but, no, thank you."

"Pity. Marrying into a butcher's family is a profitable choice. You know, my mother's brother was a butcher. He and his wife had five butcher babies. Born with a cleaver in their right hand and a slab of beef in their left."

"That's… nice," Jack commented, not entirely sure how he was expected to respond. "Look, can you get this posted out to New York?" He pushed the envelope across the counter.

Gutman examined the envelope, holding it to the light, before stamping it. "I suppose I can. You still writing to your buddies back there?"

Jack counted out the necessary coins before answering. "Mostly Crutchie is. He's much better at the whole keeping-in-contact thing."

"Do you ever wish you could go back?"

"To New York?" Jack asked, glancing up at Gutman in surprise. "No, never." Except, that wasn't true. Jack had found himself wishing, recently, that he had stayed in New York and weathered the pounding streets there; Jack wouldn't have lost Crutchie if they had never come to Santa Fe and met the Holloways. "Santa Fe's got everything I had ever dreamed of."

Gutman pursed his lips, his moustache bristling at the motion. He methodically counted out the coins Jack had handed him, before swiping them under the counter. "Hm. You ever heard the phrase 'the grass is always greener?'"

"'On the other side?'" Jack added.

"No, just 'the grass is always greener.' It just is. Always greener and there ain't nothing you can do about it."

"I have no idea what you're getting at, Gutman," Jack said.

"It's about how there's always a way to make your life better. There's always gonna be something wrong with it and you'll think that it could be better. But, it's always like that. 'The grass is always greener.' That's what it means."

"What does that—" Jack fell silent as the door to the post office opened. He quickly grinned when he recognized the newcomer. "Hey, Dandelions," he greeted.

Isabela rolled her eyes. "I think I almost prefer Bella."

"I can call you Bella," Jack was quick to acquiesce.

"I'd rather you didn't call me anything." She stepped past Jack to Gutman. "I am expecting a package."

Gutman nodded, before turning to Jack and winking in what was meant to be a conspiratory manner. Isabela saw and sighed loudly. "I'll be right back, miss. You just keep Kelly, here, some company."

"So, a package, huh?" Jack started, trying to spark some form of conversation.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"I'm sending a letter."

"Good for you."

"It's mighty convenient we ran into each other at the post office. What are the odds?"

"Fairly high, seeing as there's only one post office and you need to send your letter and I need to pick up my package."

Jack smirked, rubbing at his nose. "You're funny. You know that, right?"

Isabela turned to him. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"I don't know. Is it working?"

"I'm not interested in city boys."

Before Jack could come up with a suitable response, Gutman returned, a box in hand. "You gotta sign for it," he told Isabela, holding out a clipboard. As she sprawled out a loopy signature, Jack studied the box. In the upper right hand corner, the name A. Martinez was written in sloppy, nearly illegible handwriting. It was addressed to "Isi" and Jack quickly concluded that this must be from one of Isabela's family members. A close cousin, or something.

"Thank you, Gutman," Jack said, tapping the counter twice before pushing himself off of it. Isabela had finished signing and had tucked the package under her arm. Jack quickly stepped to the door, holding it open for her. "Where are you off to? You got time to maybe grab lunch later today?"

"Look, John, is it?"

"Jack," he corrected.

"Either way, I don't know what gave you the impression that I was somehow attracted to you, but, I'm not. I don't exactly have time to associate with boys like you. And, really, I shouldn't even be seen talking to you, either."

"Why?" Jack asked, but Isabela ignored him, carefully opening the box. Jack peered over her shoulder to examine its contents. There was a letter, a small stuffed horse, and a rose. More items were in the box, but Jack couldn't make them out.

"Do you mind?" Isabela demanded, stepping away from Jack.

"Sorry, just—" Jack cut himself off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Why did you say you can't be seen talking to me?"

Isabela waved the question away. "I've got to go. Have a good day, Mr. Kelly."

"Same to you, Ms. Martinez," Jack added, bowing low.

She scoffed, before walking away, the box carefully held with both her hands. Jack watched her for a moment longer, before stuffing his hands back into his pockets. She was a relief, a breath of fresh air. An excuse to take his mind off of Crutchie.

And now she was gone.

With a low growl of frustration, Jack straightened his Stetson, before continuing further down Main Street. He had work to do; there was no time for thinking about what he couldn't gain and what he had already lost.

* * *

It was late when Jack stumbled into the Holloway house. The family had most definitely already had dinner, which was fine by Jack. He had eaten at the tavern, something brown and mushy and not all that tasty, unless washed down with plenty of beer. And Jack had had plenty of beer.

Jack shut the front door quietly, before tip-toeing to his room. Or, attempting to tip-toe. He tripped over his foot and barely managed to catch himself on the arm of a chair in the living room. Carefully, Jack pulled himself up, steadying himself. Once he felt balanced enough to continue forward, Jack started into the hallway. He kept a hand against the wall as he staggered forward, his head spinning pleasantly. Just a couple more doors; he was almost there.

With a heavy sigh, Jack pushed his door open, intent on collapsing on his bed and sleeping until kingdom come. A startled yelp sobered Jack a little. "Crutchie?" he asked, squinting into the darkness.

"Jack, you scared me! Where were you?" his younger friend demanded, getting up off the bed he had occupied during his wait for Jack to return. "I was just about to wake JT up and rally some sort of posse to find you; you can't just disappear like that."

"Go to bed, kid," Jack muttered, edging past Crutchie to lay down on his bed. His head had shifted from spinning to pounding. And it was not enjoyable in the least. "It's late."

"Are you… Are you drunk?" Crutchie asked and Jack could hear the concern in Crutchie's voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The stupid kid only cared when it was convenient for him. Well, let him worry.

"Go to bed," Jack repeated, trying to swat at Crutchie, but only succeeded in hurting his head further as the room spun with the motion. Jack bit back a groan, burying his head into his pillow.

"Jack, talk to me," Crutchie tried. He reached across the distance, but Jack clumsily shoved his hand away.

"Why don't you go talk to Jessie?" Jack shot back. As much as Jack appreciated that Crutchie was suddenly concerned, Crutchie just needed to leave him alone. Besides, wouldn't he rather whisper with Jessie about idiotic, arrogant Jack?

"What? What does that mean?" Crutchie hissed, standing up. He was reacting more defensively than Jack had expected him to. Jack was the one that was supposed to be hurt by all of this, not Crutchie. Jack couldn't bring himself to figure out why Crutchie would be so upset and blamed overeating, alcohol, and lack of sleep. _Definitely the alcohol_ , he concluded as his head pounded in time with his heart.

"Ain't she your best friend now?" Jack challenged, his beer-laden voice slipping back into the heavy New York accent that had begun to soften in the years spent out in Santa Fe.

Crutchie's eyes flickered with recognition and he sat back down. "Yeah, Jack, she's my best friend, okay? But that don't mean that you're not my brother." Crutchie winced when Jack continued to stare at him. "Right, you're drunk. Don't use that many negatives in one sentence. Jack," Crutchie tried again, "you're my brother and nothing will mess that up, yeah? Not Jessie, not _anyone_."

Jack pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Yeah. Brothers forever, second to none." He slung his arm around Crutchie's shoulders. The movement was uncoordinated, however, and resulted in Crutchie being hit in the face, before being dragged over until he was pressed into Jack's side. "Right?"

"Right," Crutchie agreed. He was silent for a moment, before asking, "What got you so upset that you went out and got drunk?"

"Oh, lotsa things," Jack explained, waving his hand aimlessly. "Did you know that the grass is green? No, greener. I don't know. Gutman was saying something today."

"You dropped off the letter?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I did. Met Dandelions there. She wouldn't talk to me. No…" Jack trailed off, his face screwing up in concentration. "No, she did talk to me. Only for a little bit. Said she couldn't be seen with me. I'm from the city, you know."

"I do know. You like this Dandelions girl?" Crutchie asked. He figured that this "Dandelions" was the girl that Jack had mentioned a couple nights ago.

"Maybe. I'm not sure. She's not nice, not to me, but she's int—intra—intro—" Jack gave up, slumping his head forward against his chest.

"Interesting?" Crutchie tried.

"No, the other one. The smarter one. The one Katherine would use."

Crutchie's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Jack, I have no clue what you're trying to say."

"Intriguing!"

"Okay, Jack," Crutchie said, realizing that his friend really shouldn't be up much longer. "You need to get some sleep or you'll really hate yourself tomorrow morning." Crutchie gently eased Jack onto his back, helping cover him with his blanket. After checking to make sure that Jack was comfortable, Crutchie grabbed his crutch and started away from the bed.

Just as he was pulling the door open, Jack added, "That wasn't all, though. Not just Dandelions. You, too. Felt as if you… didn't need me or want me anymore." Jack shook his head, which only rumpled the pillow he was laying against. "Didn't want to think about it, so I didn't. I drank. A lot. Didn't want to be forgotten."

"Jack," Crutchie started, his face twisting with guilt. "I'd never—"

"Grass is… grass. Is that what Gutman was saying? Grass is grass? Grass _is_ grass."

"Look, Jack, I want you to know—" Crutchie tried again, only to fall silent as Jack shifted onto his side. The older man's face was already slackening with sleep and Crutchie could only shake his head. "Don't ever think I don't want you around," Crutchie reminded his sleeping brother, crossing the room to press his hand against Jack's shoulder. "I'm always going to want you around. And don't you forget it."

* * *

 **Reviews and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated!**

 **And, here's a story. For my birthday, my roommate made me Tres Leches cake and then we were joking that that made me Crutchie, since he always gets Tres Leches. Except, knowing what I write, I don't want to be Crutchie. I'll stick to JT, or someone like that. Anyway, if you've never had Tres Leches, I highly recommend it. (Unless you're lactose intolerant, in which case, do not have it. There is a crap ton of milk in there.)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow. I'm actually updating this story. So, I'm sure that you guys all noticed that I took a hiatus for... well, about half a year, there. I just needed to be away from fanfiction for a number of reasons. But, I am officially back! I know that I missed a bunch of birthday one-shots and I'm going through and working on those in order of birthdays and should be posting a number of them within the coming weeks! In regards to this story, I'm back and will be updating consistently. In order to also complete birthday requests, I will be updating this every other week. So, long story short, I am back and will be finishing this and other fic requests within the coming months.**

* * *

JT leaned across the table, trying his best to put on his most innocence face. As the baby of the family, he felt as if he had perfected the exact way to get his older siblings to give into whatever he desired. It involved pulling his eyebrows together, pushing his bottom lip out slightly, and cocking his head just a tad to the right. "Please, Jessie? Help a brother in need," he pleaded.

Jessie raised an eyebrow in her younger brother's direction, before shaking her head. "Not today, JT."

"Why not?" JT complained, leaning back. Jessie had always been the most difficult to crack, and, apparently, she was to remain and untappable resource. Ah, well, JT still had one last card to play. "Do you not love me?"

"I didn't realize coffee equated love," Jessie muttered, finishing up the coffee she was currently making.

JT scoffed, finally giving up. "Of course, you didn't. You know nothing about love."

Jessie stiffened, her face hardening. "What an interesting tactic to convince me to let you take this coffee to work with you. Go ahead, try insulting me again. See how that works for you."

"Oh, come on, Jessie, you know that's not what I meant. And I really need this job promotion. If I get to be sheriff, think of all the ways our lives will change. It won't just be my life improving, but all of ours."

"Yeah? How so?" Jessie asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She blew on the scalding liquid, before gently raising the lip of the mug to her mouth.

"Well…" JT faltered. "Fame, for one," he tried, weakly.

"Ah, fame. Just what I was hoping for."

JT rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, maybe it won't benefit you guys as much as it will for me, but don't you want me to succeed in life? Isn't family supposed to be cheering each other on?"

"Maybe," Jessie agreed, shrugging her shoulders. "But I find that I'm a little too egocentric to do anything as selfless as that."

"Okay, fine. Fine. You win. But, what if I can pay you something for the coffee?"

"If you're trying to set me up on a date, I'm going to have to turn it down. Wouldn't want to ruin the image of me not understanding love," Jessie muttered sarcastically. She rolled her eyes and sipped at her coffee.

"Calm down, Jess. I was thinking of something more the opposite. What if I could get Phillip to _not_ like you?"

Jessie set her mug of coffee down. "You've got my attention."

"Sheriff Palmer is bringing his granddaughter to work today. She's supposed to be some ditzy blonde and Palmer's having issues trying to find a guy to court her. If I promise to convince Phillip to court the Palmer girl, will you let me bring the coffee to work today?"

"How do you know you'll be successful?"

"It's me, Jess." When Jessie continued to look doubtful, JT continued, "And Phillip and some baby-faced blonde. I think I can manage. But, can I take the coffee to work? I really need this."

Jessie considered, before finally nodding. "Go ahead. Just get that kid off my back okay? I really don't like him, never will."

"I know. And don't you worry. By the end of today, Phillip will be obsessed with Palmer's granddaughter," JT promised.

"He had better," Jessie said. She took the pitcher of coffee and poured out a second mug, before passing the rest of it to JT. "Here, take it."

"You need a second cup?" JT teased.

"This one is for Crutchie," Jessie explained. When JT stared at her, she continued, her words rushed, "Last time you took coffee to work, he didn't get any so I promised him I'd save him some next time. That's it."

JT shrugged. "Okay." He glanced up at the familiar clicking of Crutchie's crutch. "Speak of the devil."

Crutchie smiled tiredly at the two Holloway siblings, before noting the pitcher in JT's hand. "Oh, you're taking coffee to the sheriff? That's nice."

"Jessie saved you a mug," JT said, standing up with the pitcher. "Which is probably a good thing; you look exhausted, man." JT noticed the shadows under Crutchie's eyes, the glazed, red-tinged orbs that flicked across the room lazily. He hadn't woken up to one of Crutchie's nightmares last night, but JT wouldn't put it past the other man to have dealt with the nightmare silently. He'd have to keep a closer eye on Crutchie, make sure he was truly doing okay.

"Thank you," Crutchie said, accepting the mug of coffee that Jessie wordlessly passed over to him. "But, I think Jack would appreciate this more than me. I'll just hold onto it until he gets out here."

"He finally came home last night?" JT asked. "Jack usually doesn't stay out late."

Crutchie shrugged, his face twisting. "Well, he did. So, he deserves the coffee more than me."

"If you want, I can get you coffee, too," Jessie offered.

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine," Crutchie replied. "Besides, JT needs to take the coffee to the sheriff." Crutchie smiled tiredly at JT. "You'll get the job, I just know it. But, the coffee will certainly help secure the position."

"Thanks, Crutch. You're the best," JT said, snagging the pitcher of coffee. "I've got to get going, though. Can't be late if I'm trying to win over Palmer."

"Okay, but don't forget our agreement," Jessie warned.

JT smiled crookedly. "Trust me, Jess. Phillip is as good as gone."

* * *

When JT reached the sheriff's office, he was greeted by Everett. "Oh, hey, JT." Everett's eyes flicked to the pitcher in JT's left hand. "More coffee? You really want the job, don't you?"

"Don't you?" JT asked, smoothly dismounting.

Everett shrugged. "Yes, but I don't want to be sheriff if I'm not good enough. I don't want to endanger anyone because I'm young and inexperienced. The way I see it," he explained, "the Sheriff will choose whoever is the most prepared. And, really, that's the one who deserves it the most. So, whether it's you, me, or Phillip, as long as ol' Joe's successor is prepared for the position, it will be fine."

"I just think I'm going to influence his opinion a little bit. Help him recognize how well I would do as sheriff."

"Okay, but don't forget that this is a serious position," Everett warned. He held the door open for JT, before following the younger red-head inside. "All of Santa Fe depends on the sheriff to protect them from criminals and keep the streets safe for children."

"I know," JT told Everett. He probably understood more than Everett the crucial role of the sheriff. JT could remember, all too clearly, how the sheriff had been the Holloway's only hope to find Jessie and Crutchie, after they had been kidnapped all those years ago. He remembered how he had looked to Sheriff Palmer with blind hope and trust that the older man could bring home his sister and his new friend.

Only, he hadn't. Sheriff Palmer had failed. He hadn't caught Gabriel and his cronies, hadn't even realized who had taken Jessie and Crutchie. JT remembered just how empty he had felt when the Sheriff had returned and informed his father that there was no chance of them ever seeing Jessie or Crutchie ever again. And JT was determined to not let anyone else down like that. He would be better than Sheriff Palmer and there wouldn't be a single criminal that could escape his knowledge. Never again, would a young boy turn away from a sheriff, eyes swimming because he had been let down. Never again.

"Are you sure, JT?" Everett asked. When JT opened his mouth, Everett quickly continued, "I don't mean anything against you, of course. But, I've just noticed that you seem almost… flippant about the job. Being sheriff is important. My father was saved by Sheriff Palmer, after he got pinned under his dead horse. The horse had been shot by some thieves and Sheriff Palmer managed to get him out from under the horse before he bled out or suffocated. Do you get that? My pa would be dead, if it weren't for the Sheriff. You'd have lives in your hands."

"And blood on your hands," JT shot back, his mouth twisting. "And, yeah, Everett, I get it. My sister and my… well, my brother… they nearly died a couple years back. They were kidnapped by a group of bank robbers and all my family could do was turn to the Sheriff. That was the only option. And you know what happened? He couldn't figure it out. Said they probably ran off together. They nearly died, Everett. It was only blind luck that managed to get them back home. I am not letting that happen to someone ever again. Once I'm sheriff, I will make sure that no criminal gets away, that no one is lost because there doesn't seem to be a clear answer to where they disappeared to. I'm not flippant. I know exactly what could happen."

Everett watched JT carefully. JT figured the older man probably hadn't expected the outburst, but he hadn't understood. JT _knew_. He knew and he didn't want anyone else to know what it felt like to have trusted the sole authority figure that could actually help and then have him shake his head and whisper meaningless words of comfort before giving up. "I didn't know you… I didn't realize that it meant so much to you," Everett said softly.

"Yeah, well, guess there's more than meets the eye," JT muttered. "And if you'll excuse me, I've got a sheriff to go win over." He pushed past Everett, setting the coffee on Sheriff Palmer's desk. JT gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning skeletally white. He had to become sheriff. He needed to. JT had promised himself he wouldn't stop until he could protect everyone that mattered to him. And the only way he could successfully do that was through the position of sheriff.

"Oh, hey, JT, are you doing okay?" Phillip asked. JT glanced up. The other man must've entered the sheriff's office through the back door because JT hadn't heard him come in. "You seem… tense."

JT shook his head. "I'm fine. Just thinking, a little bit."

"About what?"

"Nothing important." JT grinned and he understood exactly why Crutchie was so quick to smile. It was so much easier for the other person to accept the lie if a smile accompanied it. "Jessie made coffee. You better be careful because Palmer's going to be giving me the position before you know it."

"Oh, speaking of Jessie," Phillip said, quickly grabbing onto the new thread of conversation. Especially since it was focused on his favorite topic of conversation. "Do you think I could come over tonight? I need to talk to her again." He held his fingers up, only a few millimeters of space between them. "I'm this close to winning her over."

"Actually, Phillip," JT began, but stopped when Sheriff Palmer entered the office. Normally, he would fall silent in respect of the elderly man, but this time it wasn't the Sheriff who inspired shocked silence. It was the young blonde beside him. She was tall, nearly as tall as her grandfather. She had smooth skin, ruddy from hours spent in the sun. Her blonde, sun-bleached hair had been trimmed above her shoulders and bounced softly with each movement. Most impressive were her eyes: dark brown and inquisitive, they flicked between each deputy. JT's breath caught as they settled on him, before moving on.

"Is that really Palmer's granddaughter?" Phillip breathed.

Sheriff Palmer grinned at the silence. "Good morning, boys. This is my granddaughter, Veronica. She's joining me for the day, like I told you. Anything to get her out of that blasted garden." His granddaughter, Veronica, rolled her eyes, but remained quiet. "Anyway, I was thinking—" Sheriff Palmer began, before noticing the coffee on his desk. "Holloway, did you bring me more of that coffee?"

"That I did, sir," JT said, his face flushing with pride when Veronica turned his way.

"This is something you need to try, Veronica. Holloway, here, makes it himself and—"

"Actually, sir," JT interrupted. "It's my sister. She brews the coffee. I'm just the courier."

Sheriff Palmer glanced at his granddaughter, his eyes sparking with something that JT couldn't interpret. "And he's honest!"

"Good," Veronica replied. Her voice was soft, like the whisper of wind through the leaves of a tree. JT knew that she had the potential to yell and scream and _storm_ , but in the spring calm, it seemed perfectly impossible. JT had never wanted to listen to someone simply talk before for no other reason than being completely in love with their voice. But now he just wanted to study how she formed her vowels, how consonants were chopped at the end of words, the way she'd stretch out certain words. "Because you can't find honesty in a garden."

With a laugh, Sheriff Palmer poured himself and his granddaughter a cup of coffee. "All she talks about is that damn garden. Here, have some of this, Veronica. See if it can take your mind off of flowers."

Veronica's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, before she accepted the mug. She sipped daintily at it, before nodding in appreciation to JT. He felt the tell-tale heat of a blush creeping across his cheeks, but could think of no way to hide it. If Veronica noticed, she didn't say anything. Instead, she turned back to her grandfather and started talking softly to him about something.

"Wow, that girl…" Phillip whispered.

JT's eyes widened as he realized that he'd have no hope of winning the beautiful Veronica over, if he was up against Phillip. JT knew, all too well, how successful Phillip was with every girl he ever displayed even the smallest amount of interest in. For some reason, every girl tripped over themselves trying to get to the suave man. Well, every girl but one. "You can't," JT squeaked out.

"Can't what?"

"Can't go after Palmer's granddaughter."

Phillip quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "Yeah? Why? Because you happen to think she's cute? Grow up, JT. We can both try to court her and she'll choose the best one. Or are you scared you'll lose?" he shot back, grinning cockily as he straightened his vest.

"No, it's nothing like that." Except, it was totally everything like that, but JT had learned a couple tricks about lying from Crutchie. Someday, he figured he'd have to thank his friend. It was sure coming in handy right now. "It's just that, before the Sheriff came in, I was trying to tell you about Jessie."

That caught Phillip's attention. "What about Jessie?"

"Look," JT lied, lowering his voice, "I overheard her talking to my ma. About you. She said that she started liking you, but she was embarrassed about how she had treated you earlier and wasn't sure what to do after everything."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and my ma was saying that she could take her time, but she needed to, uh, follow her heart. Or something like that. What I'm saying is that you're not out of the game yet. You've still got a chance."

"Do I really?" Phillip asked excitedly. His eyes lit up and his smile widened.

JT nodded. "Yeah, but you didn't hear it from me, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," Phillip quickly agreed. "So, can I come over tonight?"

"I'm not sure if tonight's a good time," JT admitted. "See, Jessie is still, uh, hesitant to admit her feelings and I think you should give her some time to, well, think it over. Plus, if you don't show up for a while, she'll realize just how much she misses you. You know, 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' and all that."

Phillip nodded. "Great. This is so great, JT. I knew she would come around. I told you it would just take a little while longer." He pounded JT on the back gleefully. "Thanks, man. You're the best."

JT smiled weakly. "O-of course, Phillip. Anything for you." For a moment, he regretted his words. Jessie expected him to be trying to get Phillip to forget about her and he had just done the exact opposite. But, it wasn't as if Phillip was going to be seeing her for a couple days. Maybe Jessie would just think that JT had tried, but failed to get Phillip to back off. No, JT knew that Jessie wasn't stupid enough to fall for that. She'd know exactly what had happened the moment Phillip stepped through the door, intent on wooing her once more. JT sighed. "Phillip," he started, but then Veronica turned to him, her brown eyes bright. JT grinned. Who cared what Jessie wanted or expected? He was going to end up courting Veronica, no matter the cost.

"My grandfather said that your name was Holloway?" she asked, her eyes flicking to a clock on the wall behind JT.

"JT. Holloway. JT Holloway," JT stumbled over his name, wincing. "I'm sorry. It's JT Holloway. And you are?" He stuck his hand out to shake, before quickly withdrawing it. Maybe she didn't shake hands. Maybe she was too dainty and proper to shake hands with a man she just met.

"Veronica Palmer." Veronica glanced at his right hand, which JT had begun to nervously wring after deciding not to shake hands. If she thought anything of the action, she didn't speak up.

"So," JT started, hoping to strike up some sort of conversation with her, "what do you like to do in your spare time?"

"I like to garden," Veronica responded simply.

JT nodded. "Okay, so tell me about your garden. Is it mostly flowers? Vegetables? What made you want to garden?"

Veronica stared at him, silent. "You actually want to hear about my garden?"

With a shrug, JT nodded. "Sure. Why not? If it's something you enjoy, it's bound to be interesting."

"No one has ever cared about my garden," Veronica explained. "Every guy I've talked to ever only wanted to talk about what he was interested in. Horses, crops, livestock, I've heard it all." She regarded JT carefully. "Do you like to garden?"

"Not really. My ma had one when I was little. I'd help dig little holes for the seeds. I ate a worm once, too. But, beyond that, I didn't really do anything to help. So, that's why I want you to tell me what it's like. I'm out of my league here, Veronica."

Hesitantly, Veronica smiled. "Okay," she agreed. "So, do you know anything about gardens?"

"You need water, sun, and dirt."

She laughed. "That's a good start, I guess. In my garden, I've got this one section that's devoted to flowers only, and then the other… probably three-fourths, or roughly that, is all vegetables and fruits. I even managed to color coordinate the flowers I planted last year. It was funny because I thought all the tulips I had gotten were yellow—you do know what tulips are, right?" Veronica asked, interrupting herself.

"A flower?" JT asked.

"Yes, a flower. Well, I'll have to show you one sometime. Anyway, these tulips all started coming in last March and I thought I had everything organized, but there were these five red tulips smack-dab in the middle of all the yellow ones. I had to transplant them over next to the carnations." Veronica smiled. "You don't even know what a carnation is, do you?"

"Am I correct in guessing that it is, also, a flower?"

"Well, JT, you're nearly as much an expert as I am."

"Thank you."

Sheriff Palmer's voice cut through their conversation. "Holloway, stop flirting with Veronica and get out on the streets."

JT turned to the Sheriff, ascertaining how serious the older man was. If the angled eyebrows were anything to go by, he needed to get out on the streets immediately. Turning back to Veronica, JT apologized, "Sorry, miss, but I've got to go. Though, I really would like to hear more about your garden later. It sounds… pretty."

"Holloway!"

"I'm going!"

Veronica smiled. "Okay, JT. Maybe, sometime, you can drop by and I'll show you it. Then you'll actually know what a tulip and a carnation are."

"I look forward to it," JT promised. He grabbed his hat and left the building before Sheriff Palmer could yell again. Throughout the day, he couldn't keep Veronica's smile out of his mind. That day, JT smiled the most that he had in a long time.

* * *

 **You guys should totally send me reviews, and let me know how you feel about this story. I could really use some positivity in regards to this story. I hope you guys all have a great week!**


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